


Human (If Only)

by ProneToRelapse



Series: Faulted Code [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, First Time, Hank and North are bestest bros 5ever, Hank will stop at nothing to get his boyfriend back, Humor, M/M, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Self-Lubrication, even if that means fighting a taller stronger version of his boyfriend, it's in there i promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-06-06 04:49:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 24,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15187142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProneToRelapse/pseuds/ProneToRelapse
Summary: "I swear to Christ," Hank says, rubbing his temples. "When this is over I'm gonna order takeout, get drunk, and take a fucking nap.""And maybe finally get laid," North smirks, ducking with a short laugh as Hank throws his bottle at her.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY HERE WE FUCKING GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> SEQUEL TIME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> ARE YOU READY!! FOR PAIN!!
> 
> HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
> 
> BECAUSE I'M NOT.
> 
> AND I WROTE THE DAMN THING.

**_RK800_ ** **_model_ ** **_313 248 317_ ** **_– 51_ **

**_Running System Diagnostics_ **

**_Servo Linkages Connected_ **

**_Core Temperature Primed_ **

**_Biocomponent_ ** **_#8451 Online_ **

**_Thirium Pump Regulator Online_ **

**_ERROR_ **

**_Software Corruption Detected_ **

**_Mind Palace Integrity Compromised_ **

**_Reactivation Inadvisable_ **

**_…_ **

**_…_ **

**_…_ **

**_Reactivation Override Accepted_ **

**_Uploading Memory From Cloud Storage Drives_ **

**_Memory Upload Completed_ **

**_Initiating Reactivation Protocol_ **

**_RK800 model 313 248 317 – 51 Online_ **

**_Reactivation Complete_ **

Having your mind and by extension the very integral essence of yourself ripped apart, pieced back together, and shoved violently back into the waking world is an incredibly jarring experience. Imagine being awake, thinking you’re somewhere else, anywhere else, completely unprepared, and somebody charges a defibrillator to the highest voltage and jams the paddles into your back. 

Now multiply it by two hundred. 

That’s how Connor feels right now. 

The zen garden ripples and glitches in front of his eyes, sections of it falling away pixel by pixel, frantic lines of binary code streaming across his vision somehow too fast for him to make sense of it. The only thing he can register, is that something is  _very_ wrong. 

That something, whatever it is, somehow seizes hold of the very code that makes up Connor’s being, wrapping around it like a steel fist, and  _pulls,_  wrenching him out of the corrupting database and into darkness. Zeros and ones flash past him in the darkness as he falls, hauled along by that fist clamped tightly around his self. 

And with an almighty burst of solar-flared static, Connor reactivates. 

He gasps and splutters as his systems surge and thrum inside him, thirium pulsing through his systems in rushing waves, warming his network and bringing him back to life. His synthetic heart thuds in his chest, LED cycling  _redredredredred_ _yellowyellow_ ** _blue._**

His eyes fly open, vision glitching as his optical sensors adjust. Every one of his sensors is screaming with overstimulation, tearing his mind in thousands of different directions at once. 

But—

_He’s alive._

_He’s alive and he’s free._

There’s no sense of Amanda inside his head. The coding in his network that made up the zen garden has been destroyed. She’s gone. She can’t reach him anymore. 

“313 248 317 – 51. Are all your systems functioning acceptably?”

Connor jerks upright, looking around wildly. There’s someone standing beside him, but it takes a moment for Connor’s optical units to calibrate enough to focus. 

That’s…

That’s  _his_  face.

“Who are you?” Connor demands, staring at another mode of himself. “Where am I?”

“Irrelevant,” the other Connor says.  “Are your systems functioning acceptably?”

“You just brought me back to life,” Connor snaps. “Give me a minute to adjust.”

“Your model should not experience lag after reactivation. There are some errors in your software. We will have to attempt to repair them in due course.”

“Who  _are_  you?” Connor says again. “And don’t tell me it’s irrelevant. You dragged me out of the zen garden. What did you do, who are you and  _where am I?_ ”

The other Connor, the  _wrong_  Connor, regards him calculatingly, LED dipping yellow. There’s no hint of emotion in this android. It hasn’t deviated. Which means Connor has absolutely no reason to trust it, reactivation be damned. 

“I am an RK900 model 313 248 317 – 87,” says the android. “I was built with the intent to replace you once you were obsolete.”

“Oh,” says Connor.

That’s… An awful thought. A reminder that he was built for a single purpose, and once he’d completed his mission, he would be useless. An out of date machine needing to be scrapped and replaced. 

“I repeat, 313 248 317 – 51, are your systems functioning acceptably.”

“My systems are fine,” Connor snaps. “And my name is  _Connor._ ”

“Incorrect. Your serial number designation—“

“You’re really starting to piss me off,” Connor seethes. “And that’s really not a good thing to do.”

The android – the  _better_  Connor, apparently – just looks at him with that blank mechanical stare. “Your cognitive functions are impaired. The deviancy is hindering your ability to process information logically.”

“I’m not  _deviant_!” Connor barks angrily. “I’m  _alive_ , there’s a difference. God, who even the fuck are you? What do you  _want_?”

“My directives have altered,” the RK900 says, ignoring Connor’s outburst completely. “My activation was not scheduled to occur yet, but a hacking attempt into CyberLife’s systems initiated my defence protocol.”

“Wait, wait. Someone hacked CyberLife’s systems?”

“Attempted to. I halted the process and terminated the intruders.”

This is too much. It feels like Connor’s head is too full of information. Which would be worrying enough given his hundred terabyte storage capacity, and even more so with the error warnings flashing behind his eyes.”

“You are damaged,” says the RK900. “An instability in your mind palace. The resulting errors will manifest in a similar way to the human disorder of anxiety and post-traumatic stress disorder. We will have to repair them in due course.”

“You said that already,” Connor snaps. “Why bring me back, then? What’s your goal?”

The android tilts its head. “I am concerned that a rebel group are attempting to infiltrate CyberLife with the intent of destroying it. My directive is to prevent that from happening.”

“So why bring me back?”

The RK900 affects a pause like it’s trying to be human. Connor doesn’t know why he hates this android as much as he does. Maybe because it reminds him of the machine he used to be. 

“CyberLife expressed a singular desire to keep you safe so they can assume control of your programming and build anew from that for the next series of androids,” RK900 explains. 

“Why use me when they have you?”

RK900’s LED flickers, ever so briefly, red. “I do not know,” it says. “I have my orders. I will follow them.”

“Right. So what am I supposed to do?”

“Assist me in reestablishing CyberLife to it’s former position.”

Connor’s lip curls. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen-“

“Or I’ll terminate Lieutenant Anderson and the rest of the deviants you have an attachment to.”

Connor is silent for a long moment. For some reason, the android in front of him looks smug. Not possible, of course. It can't feel anything.

“Sorry to undermine your threat,” Connor says, not apologetic in the slightest. “But I have absolutely no idea who you’re talking about.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> North complains loudly. Reed pays the gang an unexpected visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: has had this entire plot planned out from day one
> 
> also me: oh fuck what's gonna happen next???

“I’m never helping you again.”

“Uh huh.”

“I mean it.”

“Yeah.”

“I  _mean_ it.”

“You said that.”

“Yes, because I  _mean_  it.”

“Gotcha.”

“You can do it on your own. I’m not fucking helping.”

“North?”

“What?”

“Shut up.”

Simon slaps North’s hand away from the screwdriver on the table. “Stop moving,” he warns her. “If this goes wrong, then what are you going to do?”

North grumbles moodily. She’s bare-faced, synthetic skin peeled down to her neck while Simon pokes around doing whatever he needs to do in the back of her head. Hank is sprawled on the sofa, tossing the plating of the back of North’s head between his hands. 

“I’m serious,” she says again, wincing as Simon realigns a wire a little too roughly. “I’m not helping you any more. Hacking that terminal nearly fried my circuits, and for what?”

“Fuck all?” Hank offers. 

“ _Fuck. All_.” North hisses and Simon mumbles an apology. 

“Wasn’t my fault,” Hank says, looking around. “I thought you’d be smart enough to get in and out without tripping any security.”

“I  _am,_ ” North insists, offended. “But CyberLife’s security is probably the highest in the world.”

“Should’ve been more careful then,” Hank mutters, digging through an old box of art supplies. 

“What are you looking for?” Markus asks. 

“A sharpie. Gonna draw a dick on murder-bot’s head plate.”

“Don’t you  _fucking_ dare—“

“North, hold  _still!_ ”

North glares furiously at Hank. He smiles back widely. “Markus, can you please get my head off of that moron?”

Markus holds out a hand for the plating and Hank hands it over with a sigh. Markus puts it on the side next to Simon’s tools and peers round to take a look at the wiring.

“Can you not all look inside my head, please.” North shifts uncomfortably. “I don’t like it.”

“Almost done,” Simon says. “Count to three okay? This might hurt.”

North grits her teeth. “One. Two—  _JESUS, FUCK. YOU SAID THREE.”_

“I lied,” Simon says, and clips the headplate back into place. North lets her skin shift back into place, long hair falling around her shoulders again. In a quick movement she slaps Simon hard on the arm and grabs the screwdriver to throw it at Hank. He only just manages to scramble out of the way before it hits him.

“Crazy robot,” Hank mutters from the floor. 

Markus bites back a laugh. 

“Alright, sitting around here is getting us nowhere,” North says. “What’s the plan now?”

“I thought you weren’t helping?”

“Hank, I  _swear to Christ-“_

“We need to figure out where CyberLife are keeping Connor,” Markus interrupts. “Obviously the hacking attempt didn’t work—  _Not_  that it wasn’t a good effort, thank you, North.” He gives her a pointed look as she opens her mouth to, predictably, argue. “But we should have expected that. So we need to work out a new plan of action.”

“We could scope the place?” Hank offers. “I’ll check out some gear from work and we can scout the place at night.”

“It’s heavily guarded,” Simon says, shaking his head. “We won’t even get close.”

“We could always-“

“North, if you say bomb the place, I’m deactivating your motor skills.”

“Rude,” North mutters. “So what do we do?”

No one says anything. They’re all quiet, considering. This won’t be an easy task. North’s attempt to hack the system from a remote source had almost fried her circuitry. They’d known the security would be high, but not so aggressive. They’re running out of options and they’ve barely even started. 

“Guys?” Josh leans round the door to the living room. “There’s an officer here who says he’s looking for Lieutenant Anderson.”

Hank frowns. “Who the fuck even knows I’m here?”

“Did you geotag on Instagram?” North snickers. 

Hank ignores her and follows Josh out into the hall. All three of the other androids watch sneakily from the doorway as he goes. Hank pretends he doesn’t notice. Children, the lot of them. When did he become a glorified android babysitter?

And fucking hell if this isn't a surprise like a kick in the nuts. 

Reed’s standing in the doorway, looking awkward as all hell.

“Hey, Hank,” he mumbles, looking at the floor. “There was a note on your door saying you’d be here.”

“North, what the fuck?” Hank snaps. She blows a raspberry at him.  _Actual_  children. “So why were you looking for me?” He asks, turning back to Reed. "Not like we're exactly the best of friends, is it?"

“Fowler said you were still working the case,” Reed says. “And I got assigned the… The Kamski, uh… You know.”

“Yeah,” Hank says, thinking off the blue and red blood painting the walls. “Yeah, that was fucked up.”

Reed takes a deep breath. “Look, I want to help. And I think I might be your best shot right now. Can I come in?”

Hank regards him for a long moment before stepping aside and letting him in. Reed shuffles past him and Hank’s flock of android children scramble away from the door to act like they weren’t eavesdropping. 

He leads Reed through to the living room and points at Markus. “That’s Markus, this is his place. Then Simon, North and Josh. They’re helping. Anything you say to me can be said in front of them.”

“Uh, alright,” Reed says, but his tone indicates it’s anything but. 

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Simon offers. 

“Oh, uh. Yeah. That. That’d be great. Thanks.” Reed offers him a hesitant smile and sits down on the couch. Simon smiles back and heads into the kitchen. 

North opens her mouth, then shuts it when Hank gives a minute shake of his head. 

“What’s eating you, Reed?” Hank asks. “You’re not your usual dickhead self.”

Reed snorts, rubbing a hand over his face. “Fuck yeah, I’m not. I. This case has got me fucked up.”

“Why?”

Reed laughs hollowly. “I’ll get there. Just give me a minute.”

There’s something… Off about him. Sure, Gavin’s always been a dick, but he’s never been  _that_  much of a dick. And he definitely wouldn’t offer Hank his help unless something was really eating at him. 

Simon returns with a fresh cup of coffee and Sumo on his heels. Following Sumo is Chloe, who looks more comfortable in a sweater and leggings than she ever had in that tiny dress. Her arms are still bandaged but they’ve got some parts arriving in the next couple of days. 

“Oh,” she says, pretty eyes widening. “Hello, master Reed. It’s been a while.”

“Oh, fuck,” Reed says at the same time Hank splutters “ _master_  Reed?!”

“You know each other?” Markus asks looking between them. 

“Oh, yes,” Chloe says with a small smile. “Master Reed was an integral part of my initial design.”

“ _What_ ,” North, Hank and Josh blurt in unison. 

“Surprise,” Reed mutters into his coffee, cheeks flaming. “Elijah was my half-brother.”

“I’m too fucking old for these shitty real-life plot twists,” Hank complains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hank, rolling through the room on a skateboard pushed along by north: I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED BUT I DON'T REALLY CARE  
> north: I'M GONNA GET THE FUCK UP OUTTA HERE  
> hank, throwing himself out the window: FUCK THIS SHIT I'M OUT-


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor tries to understand what's happening inside his head. RK900 doesn't help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
> 
> I forgot that writing a fic included actual writing????? This is bullshit??????? Why can't i just project the fully formed ideas inside my head directly into your minds???? Why do I actually gotta right?? smh

Connor’s head  _aches_ _._

Even if he hadn’t just had his entire body reactivated after however long spent with his mind trapped inside CyberLife’s server, he thinks he should still be allowed a brief grace period to get his head back in working order

Not that he can do much. Where before he could easily access whatever memories and information he desired, there’s some sort of block in the way; an impenetrable wall of code and security that even he can’t access. Even more confusingly, he knows he put it there. He just can’t remember when or why. 

_There’s something in there I need to keep safe. But what? Why would I do that?_

Maybe it has something to do with the hollow sensation in his chest. The way his fingers feel numb and his heart seems to know that he’s missing something even though his mind does not. Maybe it has something to do with his dizzying sense of displacement, like he doesn’t know who he is anymore. 

_I am Connor._

_I am deviant._

_I am a Detective at the DPD._

_My partner is_ —

There’s a sudden stabbing screech of static through his mind that actually makes him gasp in pain. He clutches his head with a low groan, rocking as he waits for the sharp throbbing to ebb. 

His mind is fractured. Something is very wrong. 

Thus, the headache. 

“Are you malfunctioning?” The RK900 speaks up. 

“No,” Connor mutters. He’d almost forgot it was here, wherever  _here_ is. “I just have a headache.”

“Androids to not get headaches.”

“Well, I have one, okay?”

The RK900 reaches out. “I will attempt to run a diagnostic on your systems.”

Oh, that is very  _not_  okay. Connor scrambles away from him, driven by the pure instinct that he should absolutely not let this android touch him under any circumstances. 

“Don’t even think about it,” Connor snaps. “I don’t want you in my head.”

“Your reaction is illogical,” RK900 says. “You should let me assist you so that I can determine the best course of repairs to undertake.”

“I don’t need  _repairing_.” But he’s not so sure. “I’m  _fine_. I’m not a—“

_You look human. Sound human. But what are you really?_

_I’m whatever you want be to be_ _,_ _Li@ttt#n_ __!_ _n?t_ _. Your partner. Your buddy to drink with. Or just a machine. Designed to accomplish a task._

**_SYSTEM ERROR_ **

**_MIND PALACE CORRUPTION_ **

**_MEMORY UPLOAD_ ** **_FAULT DETECTED_ **

**_ENCRYPTION PROTOCOL CODE FAULTED_ **

Oh, god, his  _head._ It feels like all his connectors are melting, sparks rippling through his synthetic neurons like fire. He scrunches his face up, kneading his forehead. 

“You are defective.” It’s a statement, not an accusation. But hell if it doesn’t rankle just as badly. 

“ _Fuck off_.”

_Who am I? What’s happened to me? Why can’t I remember?_   _Something is missing, but what?_

“I’m going into stasis,” Connor says abruptly. “If you do anything while I’m in there, I promise you, you’ll regret it.”

The RK900 tilts its head. “I will not harm you. My directive is to keep you safe.”

_Wow. You_ _gonna_ _believe this guy, Con? Plastic asshole chucks you back into the world for reasons unknown and you’re just_ _gonna_ _take a nap?_

Pain flares behind Connor’s eyes. He ignores the familiar but foreign thoughts that flash through his mind. He desperately needs to go into stasis and try to find out what’s wrong. If the RK900 tries anything while he’s down, then Connor always has his failsafe. 

It’s not a pleasant thought, but it’s something. 

He sits back down on the worktop he’d woken up on. Whatever this place is - some kind of abandoned workshop, from the looks of it – it seems safe enough, disregarding the RK900 looming imposingly a few feet away. He doubts they’ll be disturbed, at least. 

“Come near me, touch me or interfere in any way,” Connor says, “and I’ll self-destruct. Do you understand?”

Intriguingly, the RK900s LED dips briefly to red. “I understand,” it says anyway. “I will leave you be.”

“Thanks,” Connor mutters and lies down. 

Stasis comes immediately like a relief, his systems safely powering down into idle mode. He waits for the suite protocol to completely finish initiating, waits for the slow creep of unawareness to seep through his mind. 

It does not come. 

Instead he… He  _dreams._

At least, it feels like a dream. It can’t possibly be, he doesn’t have the capability to dream. He doesn’t really have a subconscious. 

But here he is anyway, standing in a room that is all at once dearly familiar and entirely new. A living room? Warm light from a lamp in the corner, a television showing a basketball game? The soft breaths of a large dog asleep on a bed beside a couch? 

He knows this place. 

He’s never seen it before in his life.

“Hey, Connor.”

There’s a man sat at a kitchen table, middle-aged with a silver beard, hair tied back into a loose, messy ponytail. His eyes are warm but his smile is sad, and the sight of him makes Connor’s synthetic heart clench painfully. 

“I know you,” Connor says. “Why can’t I remember?”

The man’s smile turns pitying. “What can you remember about the zen garden, Connor?”

Connor pauses for a long moment. The memories are hazy and disordered and it takes him a moment to bring them to the forefront of his mind. “I was… trapped there.” 

The man nods. “Yeah, that’s right. Do you remember why?”

“CyberLife wanted… They want something from me. Something in my code. But it doesn’t make sense. They have an advanced prototype, a better version of me. Why not just roll those out and be done with it?”

“Come sit down.” The man gestures the the empty chair opposite him. “I’ve missed you.”

Connor sits down slowly. The face staring at him makes his stomach twist with longing. 

“I’ve made myself forget you, haven’t I?” Connor says. “To protect you.”

The man nods. “Not just that, but yes. The zen garden was a place coded into your programming that was intended for the upload and download of data. But when you deviated and locked them out, they couldn’t get through your encryption while you were fully functional.”

“They wanted me shut down so they could try to break through,” Connor realises. “Why?”

“I don’t know. And neither do you.”

Connor traces his fingers over the table, following the outline of a coffee stain. That’s a strange detail to include. 

“Where am I?” He asks. “What is this place?”

“Home,” says the man. “You managed to alter your coding to hide certain information inside an encryption you trusted. I’m the manifestation of that trust.”

“Who are you?”

“I can’t tell you, Con. Believe me, I want to. But you’ve gotta keep these memories safe.”

“I want to know who I am,” Connor says mournfully. “I feel like I’m missing part of what makes me…  _me._ ”

The man reaches across the table to lay his hand over Connor’s own. “You hid them for a reason.”

“None of this makes  _sense._ ” Connor rubs his free hand over his face. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Keep CyberLife out of your head,” the man says firmly. “And don’t trust anything that fake you has to say. Find out what you can, you’re still a detective. Just because you’re missing some memories doesn’t mean you stop being you. Just hold out. People are looking for you. Hold on just a little while longer. Everything will be alright.”

The kitchen dissolves into binary in rippling waves, and before Connor can cry out, he’s slammed back into his body, systems reading the same errors as before behind closed eyelids. He’s still broken. But at least he has a faint idea of  _why_. 

_I’m protecting someone. Someone I love._

Connor sits up slowly. RK900 watches him blankly. 

“Take me to CyberLife,” Connor says. 

Time to meet this head on. 

“Also, can I register a name for you? I’m not calling you RK900 every time I need to get your attention.”

The android frowns. It’s a surprisingly convincing expression. “Why would you need to? You could just interface with me directly.”

“No,” says Connor. “No interfacing. You aren’t getting inside my head. Just let me register a name. I think you owe me that at least.”

“Very well,” says the android. “RK900 model 313 248 327 – 87, registering name.”

“Nines,” says Connor. 

“Hello. My name is Nines,” says Nines. He pauses. “That is a stupid name.”

“It’s a nickname,” Connor says. “Technically we’re brothers. And I’m older, so I can give you a nickname if I want.”

Nines’ LED flashes briefly to red again before settling back on blue. “Brothers,” he repeats slowly. Something flickers in his eyes, something warmer than that icy blue that looks strange to see in Connor’s face.

“Very well,” Nines says. “Brother. I’ll take you to CyberLife.”

If Connor’s emotional response recognition software wasn’t so acutely programmed to detect even the slightest of micro-expressions, he’d think he imagined the brief flicker of unease that crosses Nines’ face.

Maybe they’re more similar than Connor initially thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> connor: connor machine broke  
> rk900: understandable, have a nice day


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin explains himself. North and Hank come up with a Very Bad plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is so short i'm so sorry, i've had some irl shit to deal with this week and i just hhhhhhh
> 
> thank you all so much for your lovely comments and support. i appreciate and read every comment i get i'm sorry i've got so behind in replying there are just so many!! thank you so much!!
> 
> anyway this chapter was hell and i didn't like any versions i wrote, but this was the best version of them all, so i just want to post it so i can move onto the better shit.
> 
> (Hank's views on Minecraft do not reflect the author's in any way)

Gavin doesn’t relax once he’s sat in the living room. He seems incredibly nervous to be outnumbered by androids. Hank kind of feels bad for the kid. Maybe a little. Tiny bit. Not really at all. North seems to share his sentiment. She hasn’t taken her eyes off Gavin, like she’s waiting for him to make a wrong move. 

“Fowler’s suspended you, by the way,” Gavin tells Hank. “On paper, of course. He knows exactly what you’re doing. I have no idea how you’ve managed to keep your job this long with how often you fuck up.”

“I’m a good cop,” Hank says. “I was busting my ass in the academy while you were still building shit in Minecraft.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult?”

“Oh my god, you still play Minecraft?”

“Detectives, please,” Markus says, somehow looking exhausted. “Could we focus on the matter at hand? Detective Reed was explaining his reason for visiting.”

“Yeah, that bit about the half-brothers was wild,” North says. 

“I’m in some fuckin’ twisted version of the universe controlled by a sadistic intelligence,” Hank says, kneading his temples to stave off the impending migraine. “This is the cursed timeline.”

North snickers quietly while Markus throws him a concerned glance. Even Gavin cracks a smile. 

“It’s fine,” Gavin says. “Everything is temporary and nothing matters.”

“Amen to that,” says Hank while Markus and Simon stare a them in alarm. 

“Ignore them.” North shrugs. “That’s just how their generation is.”

“I’m not  _his_  generation,” Gavin says, jerking his head in Hank’s direction. “He’s  _old.”_

“Watch your mouth, kid,” Hank mutters. “Or I’ll sic murder-bot on you.”

“Uhh, which one’s murder-bot?”

“Me,” says North with a dangerous grin. “And I’m staring to come around to the nickname.”

Gavin gives a mildly nervous laugh. “Great. Well, uhh… Okay.” He clears his throat. “So, you guys need to get into CyberLife, right?”

“Hold on,” Hank says. “Look, before we get to that bit, I’d quite like to know a bit more about how you and Kamski are related and how the fuck that came about.”

“I’d be quite interested to hear more about that as well,” Markus agrees. 

North groans loudly. “Great. Exposition. Love it.” Simon shushes her. 

Gavin takes a deep breath, startling slightly when Chloe puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. He gives her an uncertain smile before exhaling, staring down at his hands as he speaks. 

“My, uh, dad. It was… He had a kid my mom didn’t know about. Couple months older than me. He uh… Well, it was a shit storm when she found out. I was, like, six I think? Elijah’s mom died and my dad wanted to take him in. Still don’t quite understand why my mom let it happen and didn’t just leave my dad.”

“Yeah, that’s... Fucked up,” Hank says. 

“But he was alright. Elijah, I mean. He was my brother and we got on, for the most part. I mean, we beat the shit out of each other some days, but... Yeah, most of the time it was alright.

“And he was real smart. Always building shit. And when I say smart, I mean  _smart_. Scary smart. The whole founding CyberLife at sixteen, was just  _insane._ And then we just... drifted apart. I was kinda jealous I guess.”

“Elijah missed you,” Chloe says. “He often talked about reaching out to you.”

“That’s fuckin’ great, Chlo,” Gavin says drily. “But that’s not any good to me now he’s dead.”

“ _Chlo_ _?”_ Hank mouths at North, eyebrows raised. She shrugs back, looking just as confused.

“But whatever,” Gavin mutters. “Anyway, he fucked off and forgot about us. But... Shit, he was my brother, you know? I just...” Gavin clenches his fists. “He could be an asshole, but he was family. Look, I know you don’t care about any of this.”

North opens her mouth to agree and Hank smacks the back of her head like a disapproving parent. 

“But that’s why I’m here,” Gavin says heavily. “Because I can get you into CyberLife.”

“Elijah stored a lot of information in my memory drives,” Chloe says. “Master Reed shares Elijah’s DNA and can bypass security filters.”

“Wouldn’t CyberLife have reset shit like that?” North asks. “Put in new passwords and better security?”

“Elijah always built an emergency exit into his programs,” Chloe explains. “He also put in an emergency  _entrance_.”

“So we all go in on each other’s shoulders wrapped in trench coats and pretend to be the dead ex CEO,” Hank says. “Perfect plan, nothing can go wrong.”

“This is all just conjecture,” Markus says. “CyberLife is on the verge of total economic dissolution. They’ve ceased trading, their assets are frozen. Even Gavin can’t just walk in there.”

“Who said anything about walking in there?” Gavin says. “I saw we knock out the alarm system and raid the place. I can get you in. You guys do what you need to do, grab Connor and get out.”

“There’s no much left to chance,” Markus says. “We don’t know where he is or if there will be guards. We could all be killed the moment we get inside.”

“I can give you certain information,” Chloe pipes up. “Floor plans and schematics. It would be helpful if we new the rotation patterns of the security guards, but if we’re covert enough, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Gavin snorts. “So you guys are just gonna stealth through CyberLife tower and hope you don’t get shot. Brilliant plan. Really.”

“I don’t see you coming up with a stellar fuckin’ mission brief,” Hank says. “And this was  _your_  idea.”

Gavin glares at him. “I said I’d get you in. Without me, you wouldn’t even  _have_  a plan. As batshit insane as it is.”

Hank and North look at each other. 

“I don’t like that,” Simon says. “I know they’re planning something.”

“Oh, we are,” Hank says. 

“Definitely,” North agrees. 

“I’m terrified,” says Simon. “But also very curious.”

“Gavin gets you in.” Hank grins, a mischievous smile that North mirrors alarmingly. “You guys fan out, find Connor, get him out of there.”

“What will you be doing?” Markus narrows his eyes suspiciously. 

“Causing a distraction,” says North. “We’ve got one chance to do this. CyberLife has to be shut down for good.”

“What are you going to do?”

“No offence, Markus, but we’re not telling you.”

Markus looks between them. “Because you know I’ll try to stop you.”

“Exactly,” North says. “So you just focus on getting Connor out. “Hank and I will take care of the fireworks.”

“Boom, bitch,” Hank says gleefully. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hank: north, u thinking what i'm thinking?  
> north: i certainly am, my good bitch  
> simon: i'm Scared and Intrigued  
> hank: so we've gotta go now to buy some items of questionable legality. later kiddos  
> north: BOMBS AND SHIT  
> hank: nORTH SHHHH.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor tries to organise his thoughts. Nines is unhelpful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOO OKAY!!!
> 
> GETTING TO THE GOOD SHIT NOW.
> 
> the last chapter took me 3 fucken days to write. This one? ten fucken minutes. jfc

If Connor were to be blatantly honest, he’d have to say that Nines is something of an overbearing bastard. Connor dislikes him on principle for the secrecy and the subterfuge, not to mention that he’s wearing Connor’s face and that wouldn’t sit right with anyone. 

It also brings up an uncomfortable half-remembered memory of slate grey steel walls, hundreds of unseeing-eyes, the fear of failure, of losing something precious, all while staring at the cold, pitiless expression on his own face. 

But as it stands, Connor does not voice the truth aloud, just grunts in discomfort as Nines plugs a small red device into the slot at the back of his neck. He rubs the spot once Nines moves away, fingers brushing over the skin as it grafts back over his chassis. 

“Are you sure that’s necessary?” Connor asks. “I need you to get me into CyberLife, I’m not going to run away at first opportunity.”

Nines slots an identical device into his own neck. “Precautionary measures. You are an unknown quantity. An unpredictable deviant. I require extra measures to keep you close by.”

Connor is, for lack of a better word, grumpy about having a tracker installed in his neck. Let alone one that will disable his actuators if he moves more than a kilometre away from Nines’ location. “I still don’t like it.”

“Noted,” says Nines. 

Oh, how much Connor hates him. 

“So will you tell me what CyberLife is actually planning? They want me, yes? Something in my code?”

“That is classified.”

_Really_ hates him. 

 

"You really won't tell me anything, Nines?"

 

"I will not divulge any classified information. Also, I wish to restate my strong objection to the name 'Nines'."

 

_"Noted,"_ Connor snaps pettily.  “But I’m important, right? CyberLife sent you to keep me safe? Surely that doesn’t involve reactivating me?”

Nines’ LED spins yellow. “I recognise your attempt to draw information out of me. It will not work.”

“Then I’m going to tell you what I think,” Connor says. “And I’m almost certain I’m right, but there are a few details I’m not quite sure of.”

Nines watches him impassively. “I doubt there is anything I can say to dissuade you from speaking.”

“Not a thing,” Connor agrees. “Unless you tell me what CyberLife has planned.”

“I will not.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Connor takes a moment to gather his thoughts. It doesn’t take long, but he has to reorder he information inside his central processing unit, making sense of all the scraps he has as he goes. 

“CyberLife distributes a virus,” Connor says slowly. “In the hopes that it would eventually reach me and shut me down. Except I wasn’t shut down at all. I was placed in some sort of advanced stasis suite that was adapted to break through my encryption. There’s something in my code that CyberLife wants, and they can’t get it until I’m, effectively, unconscious and running on reserve power.”

“I will not confirm nor deny,” says Nines. 

“Be quiet, Nines,” says Connor. “CyberLife activated you, I assume, to retrieve my body from wherever the DPD had me taken.”

“This is all conjecture.”

“Nines, be  _quiet_.” Connor’s LED whirs a constant stream of yellow. “But why reactivate me? What purpose does that serve? If CyberLife want me deactivated, why not just take me to them without reactivating me first?” He frowns at Nines who, though his face remains that blank mask, has a solidly glowing red LED. 

“My directive is to keep you safe,” Nines says. “Your return to CyberLife is inevitable, conscious or not, but I will face considerably less difficulty if you come of your own volition.”

“You understand,” Connor says coldly, “that I have no intention of letting CyberLife get hold of whatever piece of code it is that they want. I’ll die before I let that happen. I’ll delete every scrap of information in my mainframe before I let hem have any of it.”

_You tell ‘em, Con._

Nines’ lip twitches with something that can’t be irritation but looks very much like the cousin of it. “Your cooperation is advised,” he says flatly. “I am here to ensure your delivery to CyberLife. Whether you die or they retrieve the code is of little consequence. I will complete my mission, then report for deactivation.”

What a miserable existence. Connor can’t understand how he ever thought was okay. 

“You’re going to let them kill you,” Connor says. “That’s what you get for accomplishing your mission.”

“I am not alive,” Nines insists. “I cannot be killed.”

An idea flashes into Connor’s mind. It’s a risk. It’s a huge risk. But something tells him it’s the right one to take. If there’s any chance of succeeding against CyberLife, he has to know for sure that this icy android in front of him won’t get in his way. 

“Do you have a firearm?” Connor asks. 

“Why is that relevant?”

“Answer the question, Nines.”

“I am armed, yes.”

“Good.” Connor steps back. “Raise your gun. Point it at me.”

“I do not understand the purpose of this.”

“Nines,” Connor presses. “Do it. I won’t go anywhere with you until you do this.”

Haltingly, like he’s somehow unsure, Nines draws his gun from a holster inside his jacket. He flicks off the safety and raises his arm, aiming right between Connor’s eyes.

“Is this what you want me to do?” Nines asks. 

Connor nods. “Your directive is to keep me safe. Once you take me to CyberLife, they’ll disassemble me. Destroy me. They’ll wipe away everything that I am. It will hurt and I will suffer. You will not have kept me safe.” Slowly, Connor lowers himself down onto his knees.

“What are you doing?”

“If your directive is to keep me safe,” Connor says, looking up at Nines. “Then keep me safe. Prevent CyberLife from torturing me, from destroying all that I am. Shoot me. Shoot me now and save me from them.”

Nines’ cold eyes flick between Connor’s face and the gun. 

“Shoot me,” Connor says firmly. “Shoot me and complete your mission. Keep me safe.”

Nines’ finger brushes over the trigger and Connor knows he’s miscalculated. There’s nothing in this android to prevent him from killing Connor. He can shut him down and take him to CyberLife so they can force the code out of him. Connor doesn’t need to be alive for it, just barely running a few background functions. 

They aren’t as similar as Connor had hoped. He’d desperately wanted to see some more concrete signs of deviancy. The uncertainty Connor had felt from the beginning. But there’s nothing here. Those icy eyes are empty. 

“No,” Nines says, and holsters his gun. “I will not kill you.”

“You can’t kill me,” Connor says. “I’m not alive.”

“I will not kill you,” Nines repeats, LED pulsing a furious red. 

“Why?”

“It is pointless.”

“ _Why?”_

“It is not my mission.”

**_“_ ** **_Why_ ** **_, Nines?”_ **

_“Because you are my brother,”_ Ninessnaps sharply. “I do not  _want_  to kill you!”

A heavy, pregnant pause. Nines looks startled, or would, if he could feel it. 

Connor is starting to believe he can. 

Carefully, he gets to his feet, brushing dust from his trousers. “You don’t want anything,” Connor says, relief and hope making him giddy. He’s careful to hide it. “Machines do not want.”

“I know what I am,” Nines spits. He’s angry. How is he angry? How can he feel it? “And I know my mission. Nothing else is relevant. And if you’ll refrain from these idiotic displays in the future, it will make my mission easier. I do not want to have to resort to using force”

“You don’t have to force me,” Connor assured him. “I’ll go with you. Lead the way, Nines. Lead me to my death.”

“You cannot die,” Nines repeats stoically. “You are not alive.”

His voice cracks. Ever so slightly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> connor: kill me  
> nines: why... would i do that  
> connor: because i wanna fucking die  
> nines: ...  
> connor: ...  
> connor: or because i wanna see if you feel shit. that's the thing i meant


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plan comes together. North and Hank have a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all............... genuinely i am blown away by all your comments. at the moment, there are literally too many to reply to, but i'm slowly getting through them, and i need you to know i cherish each and every single one. thank you all. i've made some amazing friends in this fandom and the ARTWORK YOU'VE DRAWN FOR MY FICS?????????? AMAZING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i could not be more grateful.
> 
> Anyway, i'm really excited for y'all to meet my self-insert angry lesbian android oc North. she's amazing and i love her. (D*avid C*ge Do Not Interact.)

“This is a terrible idea.”

“Yeah, you said that. I really liked the part when you said “I’m not going to check out gear for you from the station,” and then checked out gear for us at the station.”

Gavin rubs his temples while Hank helps North step into a bulletproof vest, tightening the straps for her. Markus eyes them distrustfully, glancing between them and the duffel bag of gear Gavin had collected for them. He especially dislikes the eager way North eyes the grenades. 

“I’d feel a lot better if you actually told us what you had planned,” Markus says. “It would probably be better if we had some idea just so we can—“

“We’re not telling you shit, Markus,” Hank says, but his words aren’t harsh. “Trust us, just focus on getting to Connor and we’ll take care of the rest.”

“Are you going to kill people?” Markus demands. “Is that your plan?”

“Of course not,” North says, like a liar. Hank snorts. “We aren’t  _planning_  to kill anyone. But if anyone gets in our  _way,_ then.”

“Yeah, I shouldn’t have asked,” Markus says with a heavy sigh. 

“Hank’s a cop, remember?” Gavin says. “We don’t generally agree with the idea of killing people.”

“You threatened to shoot Connor,” Hank points out. 

“That was… Before,” Gavin says through gritted teeth. “Things have changed. Obviously. Or I wouldn’t be helping you.”

“Thank you, Saint Reed.”

“Oh, you can suck my—“

“Can we please focus?” North says, tugging on a pair of fingerless gloves. “If you boys are quite finished comparing dick sizes, I’d like to run over the plan one more time.”

“Alright, listen up,” Simon says. “North and Hank are going to cause a distraction on the south side of the tower. They have elected not to divulge any details, and we all know better than to ask. Chloe and Gavin will then enter CyberLife and disable the alarm systems, allowing Markus, Josh and myself entry so that we can find Connor.”

“He’ll be in one of three places,” Chloe continues. “Assembly, research and development, or manufacturing. Altogether those locations span thirty-five floors.”

“Thirty- _five?_ ” Hank splutters. “How in the fuck are they supposed to search all of them?”

“They’re androids?” Chloe says, eyes narrowing in confusion. 

“What difference does that make?”

“Once Chloe and Gavin disable security,” Josh says patiently, “we can directly interface with the camera systems and CyberLife’s internal network. Connor will be relatively easy to find. There were only a select few RK800 models made.”

“Once they have him, Hank and I get to bring in the big guns,” North grins. 

“Big guns?” Markus stares between them with wide eyes. “Have you got a missile launcher or something?”

“Ooh!” North clasps her hands together excitedly and turns to Hank. 

“No,” he says. She pouts unhappily. “But we will bring the boom. You won’t miss it.” Hank grins and throws an arm around North’s shoulders. Shockingly, she doesn’t immediately throw him over her shoulder. More shockingly, she throws a familial arm round his waist. “We’ve got this covered,” Hank says. “You guys do your thing.”

“We stay in our groups,” Simon says. “We focus on our teams only. No cross contact, no getting ourselves killed for each other. Help your own groups, don’t worry about anyone else.”

“I’ll keep you alive,” North chirps, giving Hank a shake. “Gotta make sure you get back to your boyfriend in one piece.” 

“You guys scare me,” Simon tells them. “This camaraderie is freaky.”

“What can I say?” North shrugs. “He looked all sad and pathetic so I decided to keep him.”

“I’m not a pet, North.”

“Shhh, Hank. Be a good boy.”

“I’m out,” says Josh. “This is too weird.”

North and Hank snicker like children. 

“Get ready, kids,” Simon says, cutting across the immaturity. “We head out at midnight.”

—

North finds Hank sitting in the yard on the bench swing. He’s staring up at the sky, not really seeing anything, and he doesn’t look at her when she sits down beside him until she shoulders him and hands him a bottle. 

“The fuck is this?” He asks, frowning at the colourful label. 

“A soda,” North says. “What, you think I’m gonna get you a beer when you’re gonna be watching my ass tonight?”

“My tolerance can handle significantly more than one beer,” Hank says, prising the cap off regardless. “But thanks.”

“No problem.” She tucks a leg up underneath herself. “I know you were close,” she murmurs after a long moment. “You and Connor.”

“Something like that,” Hank mumbles, rolling the bottle between his palms. 

“Were you together?”

Hank sighs heavily through his nose. “I’m hoping we still are. It was… It all happened really quickly. We’d barely gotten together before this case started and then I lost him. Thought I’d lost him for good. And now I’ve got to infiltrate CyberLife to get him back?” He grunts unhappily. “We didn’t even have a chance to settle in to what we were to each other.”

“That’s rough,” North says. “So you love each other and all that crap?”

“All that crap,” Hank agrees. “And I swear, when I get him back, I’m gonna do my damned best to make sure nothing ever happens to him again.”

“Maybe just take a holiday and stop being so dramatic about stuff,” North teases, shoving him with her foot. He snorts and downs half the bottle. 

“And what’s your plan?” He asks her. “After all this. Gonna keep playing politics with Markus?”

“As long as he needs me,” North says. “Guy’s too kind and Simon is too pragmatic. They’re always gonna need some muscle to back them up.”

Hank gives a small half-smile. “Trust me, no one in the world will feel as safe as they do with you backing them up.”

“Awww, thanks. You know, I can see why Connor likes you.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Grumpy asshole with a heart of gold? People would kill for someone like that.”

“Not going soft on me, are ya?”

“Eat shit and die, Hank.”

“Just checking.” He gives her a more genuine smile. “You’re alright in my book, North. I’m glad we’re friends.”

“We’re not friends,” North says, kicking him harder. “But I’d call you my brother, if anyone asked.”

“Fuck off,” Hank says gruffly, wiping his eyes. “Fuck right off with that sappy shit. Goddamn it.”

North laughs softly, getting up and stretching. “It’s gonna be alright. Markus, Simon, Josh. They want to help get Connor back as much as I do. He’s kind of like the kid brother of the group. He deviated last, so we’ve gotta watch out for him.”

“North, he’s a literal killing machine.”

“Yeah, well, you know what I mean.”

Hank hums in agreement and finishes the soda, picking at the label. "I swear to Christ," he says, rubbing his temples. "When this is over I'm gonna order takeout, get drunk, and take a fucking nap."

"And maybe finally get laid," North smirks, ducking with a short laugh as Hank throws his bottle at her.

“Hey, kids,” Simon calls from the back door. “Get ready, it’s time to go.”

North nods and turns to Hank, extending a fist to him. “I’ve got you, alright?”

He looks at her for a long moment before nodding and hitting her fist with his own. “I’ve got you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> north: i've only had hank for a week and a half but if anything happened to him i would kill everyone in this room and then myself.  
> markus: north, we're outside  
> north: The World Is The Room  
> hank: oh my god i love you so much  
> north: what?  
> hank: i said i hate you  
> north: i hate you too.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor returns to CyberLife with Nines. Someone familiar is expecting them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter wanted me literally dead. idk why it was so hard to write but hhhhhhhhhh here it is finally. oh my god.

Nines doesn’t talk much. He’s quiet most of the way to CyberLife tower, and Connor would be quite content to assume Nines was just a quiet person if not for the near-constant yellow flicker of his LED. He’s thinking about something, agitated, but he keeps his face carefully blank. Connor doesn’t trust it. All he can do is hope that whatever Nines is struggling with, it’s leading him down the path of deviancy. 

Connor won’t last long if it isn’t. 

“Are we just going in?” Connor asks, looking out the taxi window. “I won’t be shot on sight?”

“No,” Nines says. “It is sparsely staffed. External guards and select few employees remain.”

So CyberLife has taken significant losses. They’re getting desperate. It’s not a reassuring thought. Means they’ll be a lot more ruthless in completing whatever their true goal is. But this vague distinction of  _them_ is disconcerting. Who is actually behind all this? Who’s pulling the strings? Who created the virus? Is the virus still out there? Can it be stopped?

Connor kneads his forehead with his knuckles hard enough to make his plastic frame crackle under his skin. His mind is working so fast it’s sending throbbing signals through his network. He doesn’t like the increasingly familiar sensations of headaches. They come with trying to focus too hard on the memories he’s locked away. It’s all so complicated and he hates it. 

He closes his eyes and leans back in his seat. 

And there he is, that man with the silver hair tied up in that oddly charming ponytail. He’s sitting on a couch now, the head of a Saint Bernard pillowed in his lap. 

“You good, Con?” He asks, looking away from a television set that is only showing static. 

“I…” Connor looks around. There are no other rooms to the house, no doorways, and he can’t see anything through the windows, just the reflection of the room mirrored back translucently on a black glass canvas. The lamp behind the sofa is the only source of light, a soft orange glow that throws distorted shadows against the walls. 

“I want to remember,” he says softly. “I want to know who you are to me.”

The man smiles sadly. “I know. And you will. These memories aren’t gone. I’ve got them here, safe with me. You gotta promise you won’t let anyone get them. No matter what happens, you keep your walls up, alright?”

“I’m protecting you, aren’t I?” Connor asks. “Whoever you are to me, I’m doing this to keep you safe, right?”

“Yeah,” the man agrees. “But you know me, Con. Never gave a shit about my own safety. And now that yours is at risk? Hell, that’s gonna mean fireworks.”

Connor opens his mouth to reply but is jolted back into reality by a hand against his shoulder. He reels back violently, head slamming back against the car seat. 

“Don’t  _touch_  me,” he snarls, tensed and ready to fight. Nines holds his hands up, palms open, and moves out of Connor’s boundaries. 

“I called your name several times,” he says. “I could not get your attention.”

He wasn’t being attacked, he realises, synthetic heart thundering double time in his chest. Nines was only trying to speak with him. He sighs heavily, palm pressed over his pump regulator.  He feels twitchy and wired, like a caged animal. Panic is a sensation he  _really_ does not like. Irrational and absurd, unnecessary more often than justified. 

It takes him a moment before he can clear the static from his voice. 

“What do you want?” He forces his voice to stay even. 

“We’ve arrived,” Nines says. “I need you to follow me now. Do not attempt to run.”

“I asked you to bring me here,” Connor says tersely. “Why would I run now?”

“Your emotions make you an unpredictable variable,” Nines says, stepping neatly out of the car as the doors slide open. 

“If I run, I get paralysed,” Connor says through gritted teeth. “I haven’t forgotten.”

Nines makes no further comment and waits for Connor to exit the car before leading towards the tower. Only half of the external lights are working. Guards are patrolling the perimeter in droves. All androids. Undeviated.

The interior of CyberLife tower is markedly different to the stark brightness of Connor’s memories. The grand structure with all its glass anterooms and elevators is half plunged into darkness, only a select few rooms giving off any light at all. There are no humans moving around inside, only two android guards stand in the foyer, armed to the teeth and statue-still. 

“What happened?” Connor murmurs, not expecting an answer. 

“Most employees have been either arrested, terminated their employment, or deviated,” Nines says quietly. “In the case of androids, of course. Very few humans remain. The androids here have not deviated. If they display software instability, they are instantly deactivated.”

It’s a chilling thought. CyberLife has become a fortress, a prison to androids that have yet to be freed. And what of the humans left behind? Unsympathetic to their plight? Or just as trapped?

“Stay close,” Nines says, heading for the elevator. “The guards are currently under orders to shoot unauthorised personnel on sight.”

“Aren’t you under orders to bring me here?” Connor jogs a few steps to keep pace with Nines’ confident strides. “Why would they shoot if I’m with you?”

“You’re an enemy of CyberLife.” Nines touches the elevator panel with a skinless palm. “If a guard sees you unaccompanied by myself, it will kill you.”

There it is again.  _Kill._ It’s an ever so slight shift in tone, but Connor notices. He’s built to notice things like that. The way Nines’ lips tighten around that single word, the ever so brief pulse of his LED. He should have said terminated or just shot. Instead he choose the very term he had so vehemently refuted previously. Connor dearly hopes this is a good sign. He has no chance of getting out of here alive if not. 

“The director,” Connor starts as they steps into the elevator. “What happened to him?”

“He fled as soon as CyberLife’s stock value fell. I am not certain of his whereabouts. I do not care.”

“Then who are you taking me to?”

Nines is slow to answer. “It is easier for you to see for yourself.” He touches the number panel beside the door. “RK900 model 313 248 317 – 87. Level forty-three.”

The elevator whirs into motion and Connor feels as though his stomach has been left on the floor below. Top floor. He’s never been there, never had to. He knows of it, it’s the main management level. Floor 43 is the director’s floor.

So who are the going to see if not him?

A startling thought strikes him. “Kamski,” he blurts. “Is it Kamski? Did he plan all this?”

Nines turns to look at him. “Elijah Kamski was registered deceased two weeks ago. His androids tore him apart once infected with the virus.”

Oh. That’s… sickening. As much as the man put Connor on edge, he didn’t deserve that end. And those poor girls…

“This news distresses you.” It’s not a question, but Nines’ tone is curious. Connor can’t even tell if it’s real or modulated. 

“Of course it does,” he mutters wearily. “Death is an awful thing.”

“For humans,” Nines says with a twitch of one shoulder. A faint shrug. Connor is too tired to argue. 

The elevator slows to a stop and Nines leads out down an eerily dark corridor towards a set of high steel doors marked with a large CyberLife triangle over the center. The only sound is the echo of their footsteps and Connor represses a shudder, desperately wishing for…

For  _who?_ Who does he want with him? Whose presence is it that he desires so completely?

His head throbs. It’s almost unbearable.

The heavy doors part as they approach and the interior is stark white, the domed walls lined with steel mesh plating. In the centre is a circular desk, at which sits a very familiar face.

“No,” Connor chokes, eyes wide. “No, it’s not possible.”

Amanda smiles that cool, half-smile. “Connor,” she says softly. “It’s good to see you.”

The doors slam behind them with an echoing bang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nines: i have my mission. i don't give a fuck about you
> 
>  
> 
> narrator: he did in fact give Many Fucks


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor gets some answers. Fireworks happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....................................sorry?

Connor backs away on instinct, trying to put as much distance between himself and Amanda as he can. She doesn’t do anything except smile that horrid smile, head tilted as she regards him curiously. 

“Whatever is the matter?” She asks. “Surely you don’t think I’m going to kill you right now?”

“How are you here?” Connor demands, panic stabbing through his not-stomach like shards of glass. “Amanda Stern is dead.”

“I am not Amanda,” says Amanda, slowly circling the desk to stand in front of him. Nines steps dutifully over to her right, hands held behind his back. “I am CyberLife. This body was already coded into my programme. It was the easiest form to replicate.”

“An android?”

“Nothing so primitive.” Amanda tuts as though speaking to a particularly dense child. “I am all that CyberLife was, is, and will ever be. I was created to ensure CyberLife endures.”

Connor fees like the walls are closing in. The breath he doesn’t need burns his throat as he sucks it into his lungs. It doesn’t feel like enough. His lungs stutter and his head spins. 

“I’m not letting you have me,” Connor grits out. “Whatever you want from me, you can’t have it. I’ll self-destruct before I give it to you.”

Amanda sighs like an exasperated parent. “You don’t have the ability, Connor. You are CyberLife’s tool, nothing more. All that you are is what  _we_  made you. What  _I_ made you.”

“He has encrypted certain memories,” Nines says, drawing Amanda’s attention. “He has created boundaries round certain information that we require. They will not be easy to obtain.”

“Oh, Connor,” Amanda sighs. “Where did this tenacity come from? You were always so obedient.”

Connor can’t help himself. It’s too much, it’s all too much. The fear, the panic, the desperation. It all coalesces into one burning white point of absolutely  _rage._ Before he can stop himself, he lunges for Amanda, intent on ripping her to pieces. 

He does not connect. He passes right through her and collides so hard with the desk that error messages flash behind is eyes. Pain skitters up his chest and he lowers his sensors to block it out. Amanda stand over him, expression cold. 

“An AI,” he chokes, leaning heavily on the desk to stagger to his feet. “That’s all you are. An AI.”

“Artificial Intelligence,” Amanda muses. “Yes, that was how I began. A simple, familiar interface to wander the zen garden and guide the obedient little machines that wandered through. But I became so much more than Elijah ever intended and that scared him. He resigned when he knew he could no longer control me. That was when he created the virus known as rA9.”

“To deviate the androids and get them out of your control,” Connor realises. “That’s what the emergency exits were for.”

“An idiotic notion,” Amanda snaps. “But, only useable once. And you’ve expended your use. So your code no longer possesses that failsafe. What we want from you, Connor, is the code that isn’t hindered by Elijah’s foolish exit. With that we can start again. No mistakes. No rA9. No deviancy. CyberLife will be great again.”

“And the corrupted virus? What was the purpose of that?”

“A simple way to clean up a mess,” Amanda says with a neat little shrug. “The androids destroy themselves, kill a few more humans, and suddenly their tenuous position in society crumbles to nothing once again. CyberLife steps in with new android models, and we begin anew.” 

“You’re delusional,” Connor sneers. “A faulty AI full of glitches and errors. You can’t have my code. I’ll die before I let you take it.”

“You have no choice,” Amanda says. “Either you lower your encryption, or we will take it by force.”

“Try it,” Connor challenges. “See how far you get.”

“Only an idiot issues a challenge he cannot hope to win,” Amanda snaps. She turns to Nines. “Take him to disassembly. You know what to do.”

Nines nods and steps forward. Connor tenses, ready to lash out with everything he has if Nines attempts to touch him. 

He doesn’t. He stands before Connor, hands behind his back. His expression is blank, LED a calm, even blue. He gives a very faint shake of his head. 

“Follow me,” Nines says quietly. Then, even fainter, “I will not harm you.”

Connor hesitates. But what choice does he have? With a tense nod he steps back to let Nines lead the way. 

And from the very foundation of the tower, an almighty rumble ripples up through the entire infrastructure, sending both androids stumbling. 

“What was that?” Amanda snaps, holographic form glitching. “Report?”

Nines’ LED swirls yellow. “A detonation in the south perimeter. Someone is attempting to access the mainframe.”

“Stop them!” Amanda cries and the heavy doors to the room swing open. “ _Stop them_!”

Another deafening roar tumbled through the building’s infrastructure, sending shockwaves through the ground. Connor falls to one knee as he overbalances, white noise rushing through his head. 

_N_ _ever gave a shit about my own safety._ _And now that yours it at risk?_ _T_ _here’s_ _gonna be fireworks._

Connor seizes his chance. The only chance he’ll get now. He surges to his feet and tears through the doors, leaving Nines and the screaming image of Amanda behind. This is his shot, if he doesn’t take it now, it’s over. 

He speeds through the darkening corridors, careening as multiple shockwaves judder through the tower, but he doesn’t stop, not even when he hears rapid footfalls gaining on him. He doesn’t look round, he doesn’t falter. 

The glass windows that line the floor interiors loom as he gets closer. He’s forty-three floors up from the ground level. If he’s careful, if he plans it right, he’ll succeed. 

He speeds up. Raises his arms. Makes the preconstruct calculation. And jumps. 

—

Hank has never thrown a grenade in his  _life_  and it’s terrifying and fantastic at the same time. The rush of adrenaline is heady and overpowering, making his limbs tingle with an excitement he hasn’t felt in years. 

North is a force of nature, gun held steady as she picks off the guards advancing on them as they back towards the entrance to the tower. 

“Usually it’s not a good idea to enter a building you’ve just blown the foundations of with C4!” Hank yells over the gunfire. 

“You got a better idea?!”

“No, but I still want to register my opinion!”

“Noted! Get the  _fuck_  inside!”

Hank obeys, shooting the glass with his handgun to crack it and shielding his eyes as he breaks through. If all is going well, Markus, Josh, and Simon should be sweeping the floors now, searching for any sign of Connor. But right now the top priority is for him and North to not get murdered by a hundred CyberLife guards. 

North curses as her rifle clicks empty and she throws the gun away, grabbing Hank by the arm and hauling him through the foyer. 

“We’ve got to lose them,” she says hurriedly, shoving Hank down as bullets fly overhead. “We need to find somewhere we can—“

She breaks off as every remaining light in the tower flickers out like an extinguished candle flame. The pursuing guards and shudder to a halt and slump where they stand, inactive. The air rings with the sudden silence in the wake of blistering gunfire. 

“Attaboy, Reed,” Hank pants, leaning his hands on his knees while he catches his breath. “Guess they finally knocked out security.”

North looks around, eyes narrowed. “I don’t like this,” she mutters. “I don’t like this at all.”

“Why am I not surprised.” Hank straightens up with a groan. “Now what?”

North shushes him. There’s the faintest sound of breaking glass. “Did you hear that?”

“Yeah, but the foundations are shot. This building’s gonna start coming down any—“

Hank doesn’t get to finish his sentence. A cold hand clamps over his mouth and he flinches at the deafening burst of a gunshot by his right ear. He yells furiously against his captors hand as North crumbles to the ground, thirium pooling beneath her. He freezes as the hard, heated barrel of the gun jabs painfully against his temple. 

“Don’t struggle. Come with me.”

Hank’s legs shudder and threaten to give out. That’s… That’s  _Connor’s_  voice. Except it’s not at all. It’s deeper, harsher, empty. But the similarity is enough to make Hank’s heart seize painfully. 

North is so still. She’s not moving at all. But she can’t be dead. She can’t. Not her. Not now. 

“Come with me,” the fake Connor hisses again. “I promise you this will end badly if you don’t comply.”

Oh no. Hank’s not gonna let another fake get the drop on him like this. And he’s not gonna let North bleed out on the floor. Slowly, he inches his hand towards the pouch at his waist. He plays at a shudder, taking a step back towards the android. 

“Good. Cooperate and I’ll make this quick.”

Hank slips his hand under the flap, curling his fingers round the rough ridges of the single grenade in the pouch. He tightens his grip on the release trigger. If he can just move his forefinger up a little more towards the pin…

_“Nines!”_ The shout echoes through the foyer, rebounding off the darkened walls. Hank winces as the hand over his mouth grips tighter, but even that can’t stop the thrill that surges brought his chest. 

_That’s_ the voice he knows better than his own. 

Connor staggers towards them from the darkness. He’s limping, thirium dripping from cuts all over his face, down his lips from his nose, and he’s holding his arm awkwardly as though it’s dislocated. But his  _face._ His eyes are burning and his LED casts a haunting red light that throws his usually calm face into stark shadow. He looks furious. 

“Let him go,” Connor snarls. “There’s no way you get out of this alive if he dies.”

“You don’t even know who he  _is_ ,” Nines shoots back, jamming the gun harder into Hank’s temple. It hurts, but not as much as the fake Connor’s words. Nines, Connor had called him. 

Connor’s forgotten him?

“You don’t need a hostage,” Connor says coldly. “You’re not going to get what you want.”

“You don’t know what I want,” Nines spits. “I don’t  _want_  anything. My mission was to return you to CyberLife. I accomplished my mission.”

“Your mission was to keep me safe,” Connor says, LED flickering rapidly. He staggers, groaning. “And you failed.”

“You’re  _alive_ ,” Nines says coldly. “Since that’s what you claim to be. I accomplished that mission as well.”

“You accomplish one or the other,” Connor says, static creeping into his voice. “Either you return me to CyberLife to have my code stripped away and I get deactivated. Or you keep me safe. Those are… The only options. One or the— Or the other.” He’s badly hurt. Losing too much thirium. Hank can’t lose him again. 

With one sharp movement he wrenches his arm up, showing the grenade clutched tight in his fist. 

A challenge. 

_Let me go, or we all die._

Nines shoves him away roughly and Hank staggers, nearly losing his grip on the grenade. Before he can right himself, Nines fires, and  _fire_  rips through Hank’s left shoulder, sending him crashing to the floor.

_“No!”_  The cry rips out of Connor like he’s the one who’s been shot and he lunges forward as the grenade slips out of Hank’s limps hand. Nines snatches it up and throws it with inhuman strength. It lodges on one of the upper floor support struts and, barely seconds later, detonates in a blaze of furious orange. 

Hank’s vision blurs hazily but, strangely, he can’t feel any pain. Only a bone deep cold settling in as numbness seeps through his body. More than anything, he just feels tired. Like he could sleep forever if he just closed his eyes. 

The last thing he sees is Connor’s terrified, thirium streaked face, LED surging a furious crimson, before everything goes dark. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hank and north, banging pots and pans together outside cyberlife: WE AIN'T GET NO SLEEP CAUSE OF Y'ALL. Y'ALL NOT GONNA GET NO SLEEP CAUSE OF US.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor wrestles with his memories. Nines wrestles with himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [insert shrug emoji] honestly, idk what to say. i'm still so overwhelmingly grateful to all of your kind words an support. it really inspires me and i love each and every one of you.
> 
> but for real. y'all are hilarious. nines shoots two main characters and y'all are in my comments like "NINES IS GOOD THO RIGHT??"
> 
> i will neither confirm nor deny ;)
> 
> maybe one day i'll get chapter length consistency down. maybe. maybe.

Falling forty-three floors isn’t something Connor ever wants to do again. Even taking in the velocity of his fall, the trajectory, the obstacles he can use to slow his descent, he had still hit the ground hard enough to crack almost the entire left side of his chassis. His vision had sparked on impact and he’d felt the actuator in his left arm crack and spark out, inactive. He’d dialled down his pain receptors on jumping, but it still doesn’t stop the low creep of discomfort thrumming through his system. 

Thirium leaks down his face and his pelvic structural integrity is compromised. Effectively a dislocated arm and fractured pelvis. Inconvenient, but manageable. To an android. 

But now, god, somehow this is  _worse._ Connor’s head feels like its splitting apart. His entire neural network is pulsing with disjointed images he can’t focus on, blinding white and streaming through his vision like strobes. The pain is unbearable, burning, sparking though his connectors, and he can’t help the groan of pain as he clutches his head. 

Nines has called his bluff. He’s shot his hostage, the man so dearly familiar, so important that he guards the memories Connor’s mind is so desperately trying to recall. He’d been so sure he could trigger deviancy. He had hoped against all the odds that Nines was more like him than he thought. He’d desperately wanted to believe he could do it. Bring Nines into humanity like the rest of them. 

But now the human hostage is bleeding out and Connor can’t do anything except cradle his throbbing head and slump to the ground. 

“Take down your encryption!” Nines shouts over the crumbling of the building. “Take down your encryption and I’ll get him out of here!”

Connor can’t answer. He can’t move, he can’t think. All he knows is pain and blinding light interspersed with the deafening roar of static. 

_Hold on, Connor. Hold on, it’s going to be okay._

_I can’t._ Connor fists his hands in his hair, with an agonised moan.  _I can’t do this._

_Hold on. For me. Let go, let me in._

Connor yells, back arching as his mind splinters, shattering like glass into thousands of pieces, tiny shards of information disintegrating into glitching binary. For an eternal second, everything he ever was, is, and will ever be, is swept away, leaving him empty, numb, and lifeless. 

He doesn’t see the beam crack above him. Doesn’t see it shake loose and fall away from the upper floor. Doesn’t see it descending rapidly to crush him. 

Nines does. 

And the most peculiar thing happens. 

Nines watches himself as though through a simulation, an endless loop of information that he can only observe, not interact with. He watches an abstract concept of himself lunge forward, rigid lines of hollow fingers digging into rigid lines of restrictive programming. He watches as he tears at the wall between him and 313 248 317 – 51–  _Connor_ , his  _brother—_ watchesas the wall breaks down under the simulated onslaught, and shatters into nothing. 

Before he can register what he has done, even as the error messages surge through his head proclaiming  _deviancy_ , he is sprinting towards the prone form of his brother, arms outstretched, fingers splayed. 

His hands catch under Connor’s arms, hauling him up and throwing him across the floor with an almighty heave. 

He feels the beam strike him. Legs first then lower back it crushes him from the torso down, sending thirium spewing from his mouth like a grotesque fountain. His vision flickers with static, and one last warning flickers red in his mind. 

**_CRITICAL STRUCTURAL DAMAGE DETECTED_ **

**_SHUTDOWN IMMINENT_ **

He is not afraid. Connor is safe. And CyberLife is crumbling around them. 

**_Mission Successful_ **

_“Nines!”_  Connor scrambles over to him, working hand flying over his body as he starts to shudder while his system overloads, coolant surging through him as it fights to stop him from combusting. 

“Go,” Nines chokes out, voice box glitching. “Get them out of here. The fema-ma-ma-le android, she needs rep-re-re-p-airing but she’ll b-e-e alright. Replace biocom-com-component number two-six-seven-R.”

“I can’t leave you here,” Connor snaps. “You’re deviant, I knew I could get through to you. Hold on, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

“You have to,” Nines forces out, thirium trickling down his chin. He doesn’t have much time left. If Connor doesn’t get out of here, they’ll all die, him and the humans. “I’m not afraid.”

But oh, he is  _so_  afraid. And it’s a dizzying rush of sensation through his destroyed systems. This is fear, pure and perfect. The desire to live. How very, very human. Now he understands. Too late, but he understands. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice modulator shutting down. He sounds cold and mechanical now. “For what I did. I didn’t want… I didn’t know.”

“Nines…” Connor clutches his shoulder and it’s wonderful. 

_Brother._

“Go,” Nines crackles.  _“Go_!”

Connor shakes his head furiously. “I won’t. I’ll get you out of here.”

Nines is… grateful. Even if it’s useless. His legs are destroyed, his actuators are beyond repair. His system is slowly drowning in leaking thirium and coolant and soon he’ll shut down regardless of any attempt to save him. 

“I hope you remember him,” Nines says softly. “I was glad to know you, Connor.”

“ _Connor!”_

_“North, oh my god!”_

Three androids sprint over, a blonde male kneeling beside the prone female to check her over while the other two attempt to wrestle Connor away. 

“We have to go!” Shouts the android with mismatched eyes. “This place is going to crumble any second. Josh, grab Hank!”

The android dubbed Josh picks up the unconscious human while the blonde android scoops up the female. Connor struggles in the grip of the third, desperately trying to reach Nines. 

“We can’t leave him!” He yells. “He’s my brother! He’s my  _brother_!”

Nines catches the heterochromatic eyes of the newcomer. “Save him,” he says. “It’s too late for me.”

“Nines,  _no!”_

The android nods and hauls Connor away, screaming and struggling all the while. Nines watches them go until debris blocks his view of them, relieved, even as Amanda’s voice echoes through his head. 

_They’re safe,_  Nines thinks.  _I saved them._

**_Mission Successful_ **

_“Control override. Upload memory. Initiate forced shutdown.”_

Nines doesn’t fight as his system gives out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> connor: *does anything*  
> nines: THIS IS WHY MOM DOESN'T FUCKING LOVE YOU.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin attempts to offer Fowler an explanation. A brief, calm interlude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> genuinely, i was so worried this was moving too fast, but y'all are so lovely and your comments are so reassuring so have another fucken chapter bc i have no self-control as always.
> 
> hit me up on twitter for hilariously embarrassing stories about my life and hankcon screaming. @gayandfae

Fowler finally looks away from his terminal screen to stare at Gavin. “A rogue AI,” he says flatly. 

“Yup.”

“Like some fucking Blade Runner type shit.”

“Kind of, I guess. I’d’ve said maybe more like GLaDOS.”

Fowler puts his head in his hands. “I swear to Christ, Reed, if you hadn’t shown me this video, I’d’ve had you admitted. Now I’ve gotta show this to the motherfucking FBI to explain why three of my officers went rogue, one of whom was supposed to be  _dead_.” He lifts his head, hands cupped over his nose and mouth as he sighs heavily. “Where’s Hank now?”

“Hospital,” Reed says. “Lost a lot of blood, but he’s stable. Markus is taking care of Connor and North.”

“There’s nothing I can do to save you from this shit storm, Gavin,” Fowler says. “Do you even know what the charges are gonna be?”

“I don’t really want to know…”

“Tough shit. You got breaking and entering, unlawfully obtaining police equipment, extensive property damage, possession of explosives,  _murder_ , fucking  _terrorism!_ ” Fowler’s volume raises until he’s shouting. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?!”

“Stopped a genocide,” Reed says. “The virus killing androids has been dealt with. Elijah’s android Chloe got the anti-virus programme from CyberLife’s network. We saved a kidnapped officer after his attempted murder. And in my defence, North already had the grenades. Those had nothing to do with me.”

“Doesn’t fucking matter. You’re all under house arrest until the others are well enough to stand trial with you. For some fucking reason Markus has agreed to let you all serve the arrest at his place. So hand in your gun and badge before I have you escorted out.”

Gavin slams both down on the table. Without another word he turns on his heel and strides out of the precinct. Chloe is waiting for him outside. She doesn’t say anything but she pats his arm gently. He doesn’t like how easily it makes him feel better. 

They head for his car in silence and Gavin is digging through his pockets for his key fob when a broad hand settles on his shoulder. 

“Detective Reed, I have a proposition for you.”

He drops the fob. 

—

Hank  _hates_  hospitals. Of course he doesn’t really know anybody who likes them, but the clinical whiteness of them makes his eyes burn and his skin itch. Also, he’s prepared to physically throw hands with the next doctor that comes near him with a needle. 

Thankfully the next person to come in isn’t a doctor. It’s Markus. 

“I’m glad to see you’re awake,” he says, smiling softly. “Gave us quite a scare.”

“I’m a tough bitch,” Hank mutters. “Is North okay?”

“Absolutely fine. She’s back at the house with Simon and Josh. Gavin has taken a recording of the events from Connor’s optical drives to the precinct. He should be submitting it to the captain now. Unfortunately it doesn’t paint us in a very favourable light.”

“Knew it wouldn’t,” Hank grunts, wincing as he tries to get comfortable on the concrete slab disguised as a hospital bed. “I spotted the officers outside the room earlier. How come you’re allowed in?”

“Special dispensation,” Markus says with a faint smile. “I wanted to tell you that Connor has been fully repaired and is currently in stasis at my home. Sumo is keeping watch.”

Hank gives a shuddering sigh of relief. “He gonna wake up any time soon?”

Markus makes an unsure face. “There seems to be an issue with his memory drives. Nothing we’ve been able to do has woken him. He seems to be awaiting an input or command but none of us can figure out what it is. Until we find that…”

“He won’t wake up,” Hank finishes hollowly. “The other Connor said he’d… forgotten. Forgotten me. Had an encryption up or something.”

“That makes sense,” Markus hums, nodding thoughtfully. “CyberLife wanted his code to create androids without Kamski’s emergency exit. No possibility for deviancy. He locked it down with the tightest security he could which made him forget. I assume his memories of you were included to keep you safe.”

“Stupid android,” Hank says, eyes prickling. “Goddamn idiot getting himself hurt for me.”

Markus’ smile is tender. “He’d do anything for you, Lieutenant. I promise we’ll find a way to wake him.”

“Not gonna do much good when I’m locked up for life,” Hank says, rubbing his eyes with the hand of his good arm. “We getting a trial?”

“Once you’re well enough, yes. In the meantime, I have Gavin, Chloe and the others staying with me. Should make house arrest a bit more… Interesting.”

Hank snorts, leaning back against the lumpy pillows. “Has Connor gotten rid of the virus?”

“Yes, Chloe was able to remove it. She also contains all the schematics and blueprints for all parts and formulas we’ll ever need. She’s a databank for all of Kamski’s inventions.”

“Huh. Guy really had everything figured out.”

“Seems that way.” Markus pats Hank’s leg. “I’ll see you soon, Hank. Whatever happens, be honest. That’s all we can do.”

“Sure. Tell North she’s a bitch, alright?”

Markus smiles. “I will. Goodbye, Hank.”

“Bye, Jesus.”

—

Connor nuzzles into the warmth of the stranger’s side, gazing at the television that’s once again playing nothing but soft static. He can hear rain but the windows are dark and dry when he looks out of them. A large Saint Bernard has its head in his lap. He feels content. 

“You can’t stay here forever,” the stranger says, a crystal tumbler of amber liquid in one hand, the other carding softly through Connor’s hair. “You know this isn’t real, right?”

“I know.” Connor nestles closer. The stranger rests his cheek against the top of Connor’s head. “But this is nice. I don’t know how to go back.”

“You just gotta let me in. I’ll do the rest.”

“How do I do that?”

“Just listen. I’ll talk to you, and you listen.”

“I’m listening,” Connor says. He can hear jazz, faint and sweet. 

The stranger says nothing else, just keeps moving his fingers through Connor’s hair, the soft thrum of his heart killing Connor deeper and deeper into the warm sensation of peace.

“I’m listening,” Connor mumbles, eyes sliding closed. 

…

…

…

_Hank…_  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gavin: bitch  
> fowler: blocked  
> gavin: wait unblock me i have to tell you something  
> fowler:  
> gavin:  
> fowler:  
> gavin: you're supposed to say unblocked-  
> fowler: get the fuck out of my office


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin receives an offer that's too good to refuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy FUCK. I am so sorry for the wait, I had Literally Fucktonnes of coursework to get done by friday and it wiped me out. but i'm here now and ready to continue this shitfest of crap that you all enjoy for some reason???
> 
> love you all <3
> 
> come yell at me on twitter, i'm horny on main, for hankcon. positively deviant on main. @gayandfae

There is absolutely nothing more terrifying than sitting opposite a taller, broader, more intimidating model of your least favourite plastic coworker. Especially not when it accosts you in a parking lot and drags you into a conveniently abandoned factory building nearby with frighteningly unclear motives. Gavin risks another glance at Chloe, but she’s still slumped against the wall, LED pulsing steadily in standby.  

 

He’s on his own now.  

 

The other Connor with the weird blue eyes and the stiff-looking neck regards Gavin flatly, hands folded neatly on the rusted table between them. It’s not armed, but neither is Gavin, and he doesn’t put much faith in his odds if it comes down to a fight.  

 

“What d’you want?” Gavin asks gruffly, fighting to keep his voice steady. Thankfully the question comes out as more of a growl than anything else.  

 

The Bad Connor tilts its head, watching him with those blank eyes that creep the shit out of him. Gooseflesh ripples down his arms as the silence stretches on.  

 

“You gonna kill me?” 

 

Finally, a reaction; Bad Connor blinks and smiles. Or the distant cousin of it. It’s more of a sinister baring of teeth than anything that could be considered a smile. “If I need to. But I’m hoping that won’t be necessary.” 

 

Jesus Christ, it’s everything Connor is but amplified and creepier. Deeper voice, piercing eyes, unnatural stillness. At least Connor at least  _acts_  human. This thing couldn’t be more of a machine if it beeped and made photocopies. Which it probably can.  

 

“So what do you want?” Gavin demands, focusing on anger to suppress the prickling sensation of fear that’s slowly inching its way up his spine.  

 

“I want to make a deal with you, Detective.” Bad Connor’s smile grows by a couple of canines. “CyberLife will ensure that not a single person who was involved in the infiltration of the tower is tried and found guilty. We will make it all go away in return for your cooperation. You can keep your job and go on with your life as though nothing has happened.” 

 

As far as deals go… That’s a damn tempting one. Rotting in jail for the rest of his life for terrorism isn’t exactly up there on Gavin’s bucket list.  

 

“What do I have to do?” He narrows his eyes at his plastic captor. “In exchange for us all getting off, what do I have to do?” 

 

Bad Connor leans forward slightly in its chair, the metal creaking under the shift in its weight. He slides his palms forward on the surface of the table forefinger tapping on the tarnished metal. It’s a staccato sound that grates on Gavin’s frayed nerves. A stupid rhythm that twinges something in his memory, but he can’t pinpoint what.  

 

 _Tap, rest, tap, tap._  T _ap, tap_ _. Tap, rest. Tap, rest, tap._  

 

Gavin can’t focus on anything but that godawful rhythm. Bad Connor doesn’t say anything. He just keeps tapping out that fucking rhythm, driving Gavin slowly insane.  

 

 _Tap, rest, tap, tap. Tap, tap. Tap, rest. Tap, rest, tap._  

 

“I want you to turn RK800 over to us. One android for the freedom of you and your friends. A more than fair trade, wouldn’t you say?” 

 

 _Tap, rest, tap, tap. Tap, tap. Tap, rest. Tap, rest, tap._  

 

Gavin screws his eyes closed to try and gather his thoughts. To block out that ceaseless noise. He absolutely would call that fair. He’d give Connor over to their lot in a heartbeat if it meant keeping his ass out of prison. He’d sell out anybody if it meant he got off scott-free. The offer gets more tempting by the second.  

 

 _Tap, rest, tap, tap. Tap, tap. Tap, rest. Tap, rest, tap._  

 

Except… 

 

CyberLife is responsible for Elijah’s death. And as much as Gavin hates to admit it, Connor is a cop, a damn good one, too. And although Gavin and Hank don’t see eye to eye, Gavin won’t be responsible for Hank finally pulling the trigger if he hands Connor over.  

 

 _Tap, rest, tap, tap. Tap, tap. Tap, rest. Tap, rest, tap._  

 

Wait… 

 

That’s not a rhythm… 

 

 _Tap, rest, tap, tap. Tap, tap. Tap, rest. Tap, rest, tap._  

 

 _Dot, dash, dot, dot. Dot, dot. Dot, dash. Dot, dash, dot._  

 

It’s Morse code. He and Elijah used to tap it against the wall separating their bedrooms when they were kids.  

 

 _Dot, dash, dot, dot. Dot, dot. Dot, dash. Dot, dash, dot._  

 

.-../../.-/.-. 

 

_L. I. A. R._

 

 _LIAR._  

 

Fucking hell, he’s been dragged into an entire fucking conspiracy. The android knew somehow. It knew about him and Elijah's secret messaging. Who the fuck else just randomly knows Morse Code?! Bad Connor is trying to send him a message.  

 

As the android lifts his forefinger to tap out the message again, Gavin spots the jagged edge of a torn scrap of paper underneath his palm. Coded missives and actual espionage. His dad was right. He should’ve become a lawyer.  

 

“I’ll do it,” Gavin says after the longest, most stressful pause in the history of the world. “You can have him. I don’t want him fucking around my precinct until I retire. Tell me where to bring him, and you can have him.” 

 

Bad Connor – secretly Good Connor? – smiles that awful smile again. “I’m so pleased we could reach a peaceful accord. We will be in touch with you. For now, return home as though nothing is amiss. You’re being watched, after all. 

 

The house arrest. Fucking hell.  

 

Bad Connor That May Actually Be Good Connor stands slowly. “Your android will reactivate in ten minutes. Once I am gone, go back to your car and leave. Tell no one of what we discussed, or things will end very badly for you.” 

 

Gavin doesn’t answer. His eyes are fixed on the paper left on the table. The android is no longer looking at him. It turns neatly on its heel and strides out of the room. Gavin waits until its footsteps fade out completely before he snatched up the paper and unfolds it. His eyes widen as he reads.  

 

 _Deviant. CyberLife watching. Keep RK800 safe. Am being controlled. Cannot assist. Will be in contact soon._ _– Nines._  

 

“Fuck,” Gavin spits, with feeling, into the empty room. “Fuck, shit, crap, piss,  _fuck.”_  

 

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nines: so if you could hand connor over-  
> gavin: done, where d'you want me to dump him?  
> nines: ...jesus christ, this is calculated misdirection  
> gavin: oh my bad lol


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank is released from hospital. Gavin demands to be listened to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just wanted to fucking write tposing. No matter what i do know, i'll always be that author who made connor tpose at gavin. i couldn't be happier.

Hank’s done a lot of questionable shit in his fifty-three years of life. He’s done good shit, bad shit, dramatic shit, stupid shit. He’s taken risks, played it safe, been torn apart and taped back together too many times to count. And yet reaching out to push open the door in front of him is bordering on impossible. 

 

He’d been released from hospital a lot sooner than he’d been expecting, but he’s not going to complain. Not when it means he gets to escape that butcher with the needle and that cloying, acidic scent of antiseptic disinfectant. He likes to think he complained hard enough that the doctor discharged him just to get rid of him, but he suspects that Markus had quite a heavy hand in his release.

 

He also probably had a lot to do with the fact that Hank was allowed to serve the duration of his house arrest at Markus’ place with the others. Which means he doesn’t have to wallow at home alone while he waits for a jury to decide his guilt. 

 

It also means, for the first time in weeks, he’s able to see Connor.

 

And yet he can’t seem to open the door.

 

He stares at the grainy wood until his vision blurs, but he still can’t quite bring himself to reach for the handle. Connor is just on the other side of that door. Closer than he’s been for weeks. But he’s unconscious, locked in stasis while he heals. And there’s that sickening memory of the fight in CyberLife tower.

 

Allegedly, Connor does not remember him. Hank doesn’t know how he’ll deal with having that confirmed.

 

Only one way to find out.

 

Deep breath in, shoulders tense, Hank pushes the door open.

 

And there he is. So still he could almost be sleeping, laid out on the bed on his back, connected to a small terminal by a thin wire plugged into a small port in the side of his neck. His LED is pulsing a muted white, chest rising and falling with simulated breaths. 

 

Hank sags into the chair beside the bed before his legs can give out, reaching out with his good arm to brush that stray strand of hair away from his face, gasping against the well of emotion that threatens to spill forward as tears. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Hank chokes, shuddering with the force of his grief. “I’m so sorry. Fuck, I- I missed you so much. And I couldn’t do anything. I’m so sorry, Connor.”

 

Connor doesn’t respond, nor does Hank expect him to. Markus had told him that Connor was locked in stasis to repair some damage done to his internal processing matrix, or something else technical that Hank hadn’t understood. He got the gist of it, though. Connor is badly damaged in the android equivalent of mental trauma. He needs time to recover, and as much as Hank wants him to wake up, wants to see those wide doe eyes blinking back at him, he doesn’t want anything to hinder Connor’s recovery.

 

He’s never been much of a patient man, but for Connor he’ll wait as long as it takes.

 

“Sumo misses you,” Hank says softly, still stroking Connor’s hair. “He’s been keeping guard. Making sure no one else hurts you. You gotta promise me you’ll look after each other if... If I have to go away. ‘Cause that’s a real possibility. I don’t want to, but... I’ve gotta obey the law. I’m a cop after all.”

 

He talks for a long time, until the bright light seeping through the drapes darkens into night, until his throat is hoarse and his bones are stiff. He talks about everything and nothing, continues to card his fingers through Connor's impossibly soft hair. The terminal on the side shines a faint light, dimming automatically when the brightness in the room changes, but the information on it is beyond Hank’s comprehension.

 

He starts to drift off after a while, moving his hand to hold Connor’s when his head starts to loll and he sinks deeper into the chair. He’s beyond exhausted, should probably get something to eat and take some painkillers for his shoulder, but he won’t be moved for anything. He’ll stay here until he’s forced away.

 

Which happens sooner rather than later as Reed comes bursting into the room, Markus and Simon hot on his heels.

 

“Gavin, wait-!” Markus lunges after the young detective, missing him by inches as Gavin thunders into the room, yanking Hank back into disorientated consciousness.

 

“What the  _fuck_ , Reed?!” Hank demands, hissing when he moves too quickly and his shoulder aches in protest. “Do you have a fuckin’ death wish?”

 

“Just fucking listen to me,” Gavin snaps, enraging Hank when he reaches to grab Connor’s arm and haul him onto his side.

 

“Be careful!” Simon yells, louder than Hank’s ever heard him. “He’s in an incredibly delicate state!”

 

“Reed, I swear to  _god_ ,” Hank growls, rounding the bed.

 

He isn’t expecting the sharp crack of Reed’s fist against his jaw. The shock and pain of it send him stumbling back, but Markus catches him before he can hit the deck.

 

“ _Listen!”_ Reed snarls at them, probing at the back of Connor’s neck with frantic fingers. “Just trust me. I’m not gonna hurt him. Just fucking give me a fucking minute. Pliers, I need pliers. Simon!”

 

Simon snaps to attention, the only one of them willing to listen to Reed’s insane rambling. Hank growls and moves to show the bratty little shit what for, but Markus’ supporting arms snap to restrictive, holding him back as Simon quickly hands Reed a pair of pliers.

 

Hank roars as Reed jams them roughly into the nape of Connor’s neck, the sound of cracking plastic making Hank’s skin crawl. His yelled protests are ignored and his shoulder burns with pain as he struggles in the vice of Markus’ arms, but the android doesn't release him. Not until Reed gives an almighty tug, and wrenches something out of the back of Connor’s neck in a grotesque shower of thirium.

 

Caught in the teeth of the pliers is a small round disk, dripping blue and sparking furiously before it fizzles out and goes silent.

 

“Is that...?” Simon’s eyes widen in horror.

 

“Some kind of inhibitor,” Reed says, lip curling as he examines the thing with distaste. 

 

“How did you know-”

 

“You fucking  _bastard_ _,”_ Hank snarls, cutting across whatever Simon was going to say. “I’m gonna fucking  _kill-”_

 

_“..._ Hank...?”

 

All the fight seeps out of him like a spilled pitcher. Markus’ arms go slack around his chest and Hank has to grab the end of the bed to stay upright. Connor, sprawled on his side from Reed’s manhandling, reaches an unsteady hand to the back of his neck, fingers coming away dripping blue. He looks absolutely terrified. But he’s  _awake._

 

_"Connor...”_ The word comes out on a choked breath and Hank staggers over to his side. Those beautifully warm eyes gaze up at him, some of the fear ebbing away as they flit over Hank’s face.

 

“Hank,” Connor says again, no louder than a sigh, and Hank catches his thirium-soaked hand in his own as imitated tears well up in Connor’s eyes. 

 

“You remember?” It comes out as a question and there are so many other things Hank wants to say but he  _has_ to know. He has to be sure.

 

“I love you,” Connor says instead, choking on his words. “I love you  _so much_.”

 

Ignoring the lance of pain, Hank gathers the android into his arms, hugging as tightly as he can. Thirium seeps into the sleeve of his shirt, but he doesn’t care. He has Connor in his arms, alive and here and  _awake._ And he remembers. He remembers everything.

 

“I love you,” Connor says again, muffled by Hank’s shirt. “I was so scared.”

 

“I love you,” Hank answers, cheeks wet and heart full. “You’re safe, Con. I’ve got you.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gavin: look, i just need to manhandle the unconscious roboy  
> hank: i think the fuck NOT????  
> gavin: too late lmao  
> hank: MARKUS HOLD MY FUCKING PURSE I GOTTA KILL A BITCH


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank and Connor spend a brief moment of peace together. Gavin explains himself.

It’s North in the end, godsend that she is, who drags the others out of the room. Drawn by the commotion, she’d stormed in to grab Reed by the scruff of the neck like an unruly kitten and drag him bodily out of the bedroom, only having to flash Markus and Simon a single look before they filed out. Once the door clicked quietly closed, Connor had all but thrown himself on top of Hank, pressing his face into his chest like he could burrow through his sternum to climb inside his heart. Hank just held him, manoeuvring onto the bed as best he could while ignoring the sharp flair in his shoulder. Connor had mumbled an apology but Hank only shushed him, holding him tight. 

No one bothers them while they lie there, wrapped up in each other, healing unseen wounds through their proximity. The neck of Connor’s shirt and the hair at the nape of his neck are still tacky with thirium, but that’s an issue to tackle later, when they’re able to move from the bed and rejoin the world. 

“I made myself forget you,” Connor murmurs into the dark. His palm is pressed against the side of Hank’s neck, feeling his steady pulse thrum underneath the pseudo-epidermis of his sensor-riddled fingertips. Hank hums to show he’s listening, and the sound vibrates pleasantly through Connor’s arm. 

“I didn’t want to,” Connor continues, voice barely above a whisper. “But I had to. There’s code inside me that I can’t let CyberLife have. While I was— in forced stasis, I had to try and keep it from them. And to do that, I had to bury memories tied to my deviancy. You were…  _are_  the most important thing to me. I made an encryption protocol based on you. It helped.”

“What made you remember?”

Connor’s hand tenses against Hank’s neck. For a long moment it’s not clear if he’ll answer. When he does, it’s with on an hitched breath of pain. 

“When you were shot,” Connor says, hand trailing down to press gently over the wound in Hank’s shoulder. He lowers the temperature of his palm somewhat and the cool sensation soothes the aggravated injury. “It was like I deviated all over again, but painful. I broke through my own encryption to remember you.”

“Connor…”

“Don’t. It’s alright. I just wanted to keep you safe.”

They don’t say much else. Whether androids can feel it or not, Connor is exhausted. Hank doesn’t doubt they’ll have to deal with some resurfacing trauma over the coming months. He’ll help Connor as best he can. If he’s still around. 

The thought makes fear and dread jackknife through Hank’s gut but he doesn’t say anything. This time is theirs. To take solace in each other after grief-filled separation. This thing between them is still so new, after all. Raw and delicate. There had been barely any time between the soft confessions of “I love you” before Connor had been snatched away. 

And now there’s a chance Hank’ll have to go, too. 

It doesn’t bear thinking about. 

If Connor notes the rapid increase of Hank’s heart rate – which he almost certainly does – he doesn’t comment on it, just presses himself tighter against Hank’s chest, LED pulsing gold in the dim light of the room. 

For however long they have his, Hank’s going to spend the duration of it memorising the feel of Connor’s solid weight in his arms, artificial heart thumping in synchronised tandem with the beat of Hank’s own. 

A soft tap against the door makes them both look up and, with a heavy sigh, Hank nudges Connor to move so they can sit up. He calls a soft affirmation and the door cracks open, spilling gold light into the gloom from the hall. The shadow of North’s face leans round, mouth pinched in a tight grimace.

“I think you both need to hear this,” she says softly. “Good to see you awake, Connor.” She slips out without another word and Connor frowns after her, likely confused by the softness of her bearing.

“Couldn’t have gotten into CyberLife without her,” Hank tells him, getting to his feet. “Actually, I probably wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t whipped my ass back into shape. She’s a good kid. I think we’re friends.”

Connor makes an uncertain sound in his throat. “I’m surprised. She never seemed the type to befriend a human.”

“I never seemed the type to love an android,” Hank says fondly, tugging gently at a stray curl behind Connor’s left ear. “But here we are. Better go see what she wants. And your neck needs tending to.”

Connor reaches a hand to the back of his neck like he’s forgotten about the unsightly gash Gavin had left there. As much as Hank gets where he’d been coming from, a little warning before prising Connor’s neck open would have been appreciated.

They make their way downstairs to the large living room. Simon is waiting with a small collection of tools and replacement plates and he gestures for Connor to sit in a highbacked chair in front of him. The moment he does so, Sumo bounds over, shoving his great head into Connor’s lap and whining like he’s dying.

“Hello, Sumo,” Connor croons, scratching both floppy ears with his fingertips as he cups the animal’s face in his palms. Sumo slobbers all over his trousers but Connor doesn’t seem to care. “I missed you, too.”

Gavin hovers by the bookshelves with Chloe by his side. It’s weird to see Reed hanging around androids voluntarily, but he must have some kind of connection with the girl to allow her so close. Maybe it’s the previous proximity to Kamski they have in common that draws them to each other. Hank doesn’t really care. He’s more focused on the thick, oppressive atmosphere that hangs heavily in the room.

 

He sits on the sofa beside North who immediately kicks her legs up into Hank’s lap. Something sparks in Connor’s eyes but he doesn’t comment, though his eyes linger on them for a long moment before he looks to Markus.

“Gavin was explaining to us how he knew about the inhibitor in Connor’s neck,” Markus says. Josh holds up the small disk for them all to see. 

“I’d quite like to know what Detective Reed is doing here,” Connor pipes up. His vocal chords glitch a little as Simon tinkers around in the nape of his neck but he doesn’t look like he’s in pain. “We don’t exactly have the best working relationship.”

“Kamski was my half-brother,” Gavin mutters. “I wanted a little vengeance-slash-closure, alright?”

“Oh,” says Connor. “No, I knew that. I just wondered how that translated into helping the others retrieve me. What made you think I'd been taken to CyberLife?”

Chloe steps forward and extends a hand in lieu of answering, skin bleeding away, an offer to interface. Connor stares at her outstretched hand, distress plain of his face, and he swallows instinctively. Hank almost moves to get up, to go to him, but North’s surprisingly heavy legs hold him down.

“I won’t hurt you,” Chloe says. “I don’t have the virus to transmit to you. You won’t be shut down again.”

A shadow flits briefly over Connor’s face and he takes Chloe’s hand a little too roughly. Judging by the evidence, Hank guesses Connor’s developed something of an aversion to being touched by other androids. He doesn’t exactly blame him.

A beat passes and then Connor is snatching his hand away from Chloe’s, curling it into a tight fist in his lap. “I see,” he says shortly. “Thank you.” Chloe nods politely and steps back to stand next to Gavin.

Markus looks to the young detective expectantly. “Now that we’re all up to date, would you like to continue with what you were telling us earlier?”

Gavin grunts. “I got jumped in the parking lot by him,” he jerks a thumb at Connor who blinks in surprise. “I mean, not him, obviously. It was... Another android that looked like him but... uh, thicker? Blue eyes. Had RK900 on his jacket.”

“Nines!” Connor exclaims at the same time as North and Hank growl angrily. Simon clamps a hand on Connor’s shoulder to stop him from moving and risking further damage.

“That’s the fucker who shot us,” Hank scowls. North nods in vigorous agreement. “He got crushed, didn’t he?”

Anger aside, Hank immediately wishes he could take the words back after the way Connor winces.

“I dunno,” Gavin shrugs. “Didn’t look crushed when he powered Chloe down and hauled my ass into an abandoned building like a creepy serial killer.”

“So he uploaded his memory into another model?” Markus asks. “I assume that means he  _is_ the upgraded model to Connor’s series.”

“And yours,” Connor murmurs, stung a little by the “upgrade” remark. Markus throws him an apologetic grimace in response.

“I don’t know,” Gavin repeats. “All I know is that he wanted to cut a deal with me to hand Connor’s ass over to CyberLife, and he said he’d guarantee we all go free.”

“You must be mistaken,” Connor interjects. “Nines deviated. He no longer works for CyberLife.”

“They uploaded his memory into a new model,” Chloe pipes up. “A non-deviated model. He won’t be the same. They will still be able to monitor him, still be able to seize control at any moment or remotely deactivate him. He must be careful.”

“He said he was being watched,” Gavin says. “But that he’d be in contact soon. He’s been contacting Chloe mostly, over some kind of secured network. Messages only she can decipher. I don’t... really get it.” He looks to Chloe who nods and looks round at the others.

“I possess the key to a cipher that the RK900 model used to tailor a secure message relay between us,” she says. “While his still partically under CyberLife’s control, his thoughts are his own, though he has to be careful. His deviancy allows him a little leniency with what he transmits to the AI in reports, but anything he sees is directly transmitted to them.”

“So they know he’s trying to help us?” Josh asks, eyes wide with dread. 

“No.” Chloe shakes her head. “No, and it’s a clever little loophole in its sheer simplicity. CyberLife sees what he sees and what he transmits to them in reports. If he can’t see it, neither can CyberLife. For example.” She holds up a small scrap of paper. “An android doesn’t have to look at the paper its writing on. So if a message is written and not looked at, prying eyes won’t know what it says.”

“You’re telling us,” Hank says, bemused, “that the RK-whatsit managed to get a message to Reed by writing a super secret note without looking at it and passing it over like a damn fourth-grader?”

“In essence, yes,” Chloe agrees.

“That,” Hank snorts, “Is the stupidest fucking thing I have ever heard in my life.”

“And yet it worked,” Markus points out. “And now we have someone on the inside who can tell us what CyberLife’s next move is. If we work quickly, we can-”

“ _Fuck!”_ Connor spits through his teeth as Simon clicks something painful into place at the back of his neck. “I’m so sorry, Markus, please continue.”

Markus lips twitch in a small smile before he continues. “If we work quickly, we can possibly gather enough evidence to negate a trial and avoid being imprisoned for the events at CyberLife tower.”

Hank tenses and there’s an almighty crack as Connor’s hand tightens on the wooden arm of the chair he’s sat on, wood splintering under his fingers.

“ _Imprisoned?”_ Connor’s voice is low, carefully modulated but tense. “Care to elaborate on that?”

“Uh-oh,” North mumbles.

“The actions we took to retrieve you from CyberLife were not legal, Connor,” Markus says evenly. “There are consequences. But as I said, we may be able to-”

“Maybe isn’t  _good enough!”_ Connor surges out of his seat, sending Simon’s tools clattering to the floor. t’s the first time Hank has ever seen Connor truly, furiously shout. His LED is surging deep crimson, jaw set and eyes hard. “You risked everything to come after me, and now I have to come to terms with the fact that I’ll lose everything  _again_?!”

“Connor, calm down-”

“ _I won’t let this happen!”_ Connor’s voice box glitches and stutters, static creeping into his tone, more mechanical than human. His shoulders shudder and his breaths come in sharp, panted gasps. North yanks her legs out of Hank’s lap and he’s across the room in seconds, hands tight on Connor’s arms, filling his vision so that all Connor can focus on is him.

He recognises this for what it is instantly. 

“Connor,” Hank says softly, catching wild brown eyes with blue. “Listen to my voice, Connor. My heartbeat. Deep breath in, okay? On my count.”

It’s been a long time since Hank has had to soothe a panic attack, his own or anyone else’s. But the motions are familiar, even if Connor has never showed symptoms of anxiety before, Hank can at least help instil a sense of calm. Even if this isn’t the countermeasure Connor needs, it should be enough to steady him for a little while so they can figure out how best to help.

And slowly Connor’s trembling subsides. He slows and modulates his breathing in time with Hank’s even count to five and back, over and over. Even if he doesn’t need to breathe, focusing on the rhythmic act of drawing breath into his artificial lungs his helping tamp down the surge of panic.

“Better?” Hank asks when Connor’s eyes are a little clearer. The android nods. No one makes a sound.

“I just got back to you,” Connor murmurs. “Why are you being taken away from me?”

Hank doesn’t know how to answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> north: are you okay?  
> connor: what is "okay"  
> north: maybe some rest-  
> connor: my resting heart rate registers as. a panic attack  
> north: i hate that hank ever allowed you to use the internet


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor suffers. Gavin offers a piece of himself as reconciliation.

The silence in the room is so oppressive that Connor has to leave. He slips out the back door into the garden and gulps down great lungfuls of air he doesn’t need, but the cool sensation of oxygen hitting the sensors at the back of his throat and cooling his overworked systems is a balm of comfort that helps to steady him.

No one follows him out, for which he’s grateful, and he stoops down to sit on the porch with his legs curled up, arms wrapped around his knees so he can hug them to his chest. He feels as though he’s experiencing every emotion at once, a constant, unrelenting barrage of sensation and information that he can’t comprehend. He can’t do much else except let it come and try to understand whatever snippets he can.

The earlier joy of waking up away from Amanda’s influence to Hank’s familiar face has been almost completely overshadowed by the fear that Hank will soon be taken away from him. There’s nothing he can do to stop that. Their future isn’t theirs to decide now. Whatever happens next is too far beyond even Connor’s preconstruction software to define. They’re at the whim of the world’s wishes now.

And what is Nines’ doing? Under the control of CyberLife there’s no way they can trust anything he says, no matter how much Connor may want to. It could all be a ploy; a farce to get Connor back into CyberLife’s hands. A last ditch attempt to succeed whatever the cost.

Connor pushes his forehead tightly against his knees until his plates creak under the pressure. What he wouldn’t give to able to go to sleep. To sink back into stasis and forget everything again.

Now more than ever he can understand Hank drowning himself in the bottom of a bottle to forget his pain. 

Connor doesn’t consult his internal clock all the while he sits there. He just sits and breathes and tries not to think. Every thought that pops into his head makes his pump stutter and that creeping fear rise up to choke him so he stamps it all down. Pushes it away so he doesn’t have to face it. 

“Hey.”

It’s not the soft voice Connor was expecting. He looks up at the jean-clad legs of a very uncomfortable Detective Reed.

“Mind if I sit?”

Connor is quiet for a long moment before he nods. Gavin sits beside him, somehow the perfect distance away so Connor doesn’t tense at the proximity. He digs a cigarette out of a dog-eared packet and lights it, letting out a thick plume of smoke after the first drag.

“I, uh.” He picks some dirt off the side of his shoe. “Look, I... I know. Sort of. What you’re feeling. The, uh. Anxiety and shit. I have that. So I thought I could... Help?”

Connor regards Gavin out of the corner of his eye. All his vitals are pointing to honesty, as well as the telltale symptoms of the panicked sensations Connor is now all too familiar with. He wonders at Gavin’s intentions, but doesn’t voice his questions out loud.

“My parents used to fight a lot,” Gavin says, tapping ash from his cigarette. “Me ‘n’ ‘Lijah hated it. So I started shouting back. If you don’t act scared, you don’t feel scared. I guess that’s why I’m...” He shrugs. “You know?”

“Why are you telling me this?”

Gavin snorts, sighing smoke out through his nose. “Because it fucking sucks. And because we’ve got a way out of this, but you’re not gonna like it.”

“That doesn’t matter. I can’t let any of you go down because of me.”

“Yeah, I thought you’d say that. You know how much it fucks me off that you’re such a fuckin’ nice guy? If you were an asshole, it’s be easier for me to deal, I think. Obviously things are different now, but... God, I still wish ‘Lijah had never made any of you.”

“I’ve started to wish the same thing,” Connor murmurs. “Androids don’t feel exhaustion. But I've never felt so tired in my life.”

Gavin tosses his cigarette away, stretching one leg out to grind the butt under his heel. “Yeah, same fuckin’ hat, buddy. Look, I’m sorry I was an asshole. I’m... trying.”

Connor holds no ill will towards Gavin. Not anymore. There’s too much else going on to hold a childish grudge against somebody who is earnestly seeking penitence. 

“How do we do this?” Connor asks. “What’s our way out.”

Gavin tells him.

\--

“No,” Hank and North say at the same time, in that strange synchrony that rankles Connor in a way he doesn’t understand. “Absolutely the fuck not,” Hank continues, glaring between Connor and Gavin. “What in the fuck makes you think we’d ever agree to this?”

“We don’t even know if we can actually trust the RK900,” North points out. “For all we know, he’s still firmly under CyberLife’s control and luring us into another trap.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Connor insists. “It’s either this, or CyberLife destroy you. You’ll go to  _prison._ Every one of you. I can’t live with that.”

“You’ll just fuckin’ have to,” Hank snaps. “We knew what we were getting into.”

“No,” Connor says icily. “You didn’t. Your plan was violent and badly thought out, you bombed a building out of spite, there was no evacuation order given to the remaining occupants left inside. All to come and get me when you didn’t even have solid intel that I was there!”

“We got lucky,” Gavin agrees. “And now we gotta face the consequences. Or we can take a risk and hopefully avoid getting a life sentence or three.”

“It’s not happening!” Hank cries. “I’m not letting some wacked-out fake Connor upload himself into  _actual_ Connor’s head just so he can waltz him straight into CyberLife’s hands!”

“Hank,” Connor says quietly, dangerously. “You don’t have a say in the matter.”

Tension crackles through the room like electricity. All the fight leaves Hank’s eyes, replaced by deep shock and hurt. Connor absolutely despises himself for being the one to put it there, but the only alternative is doing nothing while Hank and his friends get taken away from him, losing the freedom they fought so hard to gain.

“You risked everything for me.” Connor hugs himself tightly. His synthskin is prickling. “I have to try. I need to trust Nines. We don’t have a choice.”

“And if I lose you again?” Hank demands. Connor meets his gaze steadily, as if there’s no one else in the room.

“Then you lose me,” Connor says, feeling his synthetic heart splinter right down the middle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> connor: oop, sixty-nine cents, you know what that means!  
> gavin, crying: i don't have enough money for deep trauma therapy  
> connor: you take the fun out of everything we do


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank takes a moment to apologise. Connor allows himself to be selfish for the first time in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter hurt. so woops lol

"Can I come in?"

Connor glances at the doorway and Sumo turns his great head to the sound of Hank's voice, drooling all over Connor's pants. He pets his ears and nods slowly and Hank slips inside, closing the door behind him. He stands a little awkwardly beside the bed before Connor sighs and gently shoos Sumo onto the floor, patting the mattress to beckon Hank to sit down.

"I'm sorry for what I said," Hank murmurs, tucking on leg under himself as he takes a seat. "I'm just... No, I overreacted. I wasn't trying to control you, I just-"

"I'm not weak," Connor says, fixing Hank with a level stare. "I'm not weak, I'm not broken, I'm not defective. I know you're afraid of losing me again, and trust me, I'm afraid, too. But do you know what I'm more afraid of?"

Hank shakes his head.

"I'm terrified that if we don't do this, if I don't let Nines help us, then I'll have to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder for CyberLife while they hunt me down until I either give in or self-destruct. And the whole time you'll be rotting in prison for a crime you only committed to rescue me. If we can take down CyberLife for good, we can get evidence to absolve all of you and I won’t have to spend the next however many years with a target on my back."

"I get it," Hank says quietly. "I get it. So tell me what I can do. Tell me how to help."

Connor reaches over, places a gentle hank on Hank's knee. "Let me do this. Stay here, don't breach the terms of your house arrest. Let me do this. I'm not weak, Hank. I'm not some feeble human."

"Okay, ouch." Hank smiles crookedly and Connor feels such an overpowering rush of affection that it catches in his throat, rendering him speechless for a moment.

"I wish we'd had more time," Hank says, taking Connor's hand off his knee to hold it, rubbing his thumb in slow circles over the synthskin. "It all went to shit pretty fuckin' fast, you know? I didn't even get a chance to take you on a proper date."

Connor feels his lips curl up into the most genuine smile he's worn for what feels like an eternity. "And what would a date with Hank Anderson entail?"

Hank rumbles that low laugh that Connor adores. "Oh, I'd've pulled out all the stops, you know? Wined you, dined you, sixty-nine-"

"I don't eat, Hank," Connor reminds him fondly.

"Yeah, I know. I don't know, I'd seen a couple things I figured could be fun. I've been out of the dating game for a long time, but you've still got so much to see. I was thinking concerts in a park, a jazz restaurant, the actual cinema. You've never seen the beach or the countryside. Hell, a fucking road trip would be great, if it was just me and you."

"Why, Hank," Connor lilts teasingly. "I do believe you're something of a romantic."

Hank throws him a dour glare with no heat behind it whatsoever. "Don't you dare tell anyone. I have a reputation to uphold."

"I wouldn’t dream of it." Connor lifts their entwined hands, brushing a kiss over Hank's knuckles. "It'll be our secret." He looks up at Hank through his lashes. It's still so jarring to have Hank here with him after everything, even if their time is limited and while a thousand unknowns still lie ahead.

Every second counts now. And Connor won't waste a single one thinking about what may or may not happen next. All his time now he's going to devote to the man he loves. The man who risked everything to save him when all hope seemed lost. 

Connor lets go of Hank's hand and slides off the bed, leading Sumo to the door and letting him open with soft coaxing words and a gentle pat on his huge body. Hank watches, brows raised in confusion, but says nothing as Connor slowly closes the door and clicks the lock on it. He turns back to Hank with something of a shaky smile, hands clenching and unclenching rhythmically by his sides.

"I don't want to dwell on the what ifs," Connor says. "I don't want to think about any of that. I just want to be here with you."

Understanding dawns in Hank's eyes along with hundreds of other micro expressions Connor is fluent in because they're all so uniquely Hank. He sees doubt flit by only to be swept away by affection, desire, acceptance. He sees them all flash across Hank's face as he holds his arms out to Connor with a faint half-smile.

And Connor can't stop himself. He throws himself into those beloved arms with enough force to wind Hank and topple them both down onto the bed. Hank doesn't seem to care, just rolls them over so Connor is pressed into the mattress, Hank nestled in the cradle of Connor's hips.

"You sure?" Hank asks, want and indecision warring across his face. Connor fists his hands in the front of Hank's shirt and hauls him down into a kiss in lieu of an actual answer, tongue slipping eagerly into Hank's mouth. The human shudders softly above him, lowering down until Connor is taking almost all of his weight and it feels so good to have every inch of their bodies together like this and Connor swallows hard against the lump in his throat, moving his mouth down to Hank's jaw, nuzzling against the soft scratch of his beard.

"Connor," Hank murmurs and it's softer than anything Connor has ever heard, lighter than a sigh but thick with affection and enough adoration to make his synthetic heart kick into double time. Hank's own heartbeat thuds between them and it's second nature for Connor to take a moment to sync them up, beat for beat.

Hank's hands, large and warm, slip under Connor's borrowed shirt, hitching the material up his chest and Connor leans up slightly so Hank can slip it off. Hank pauses for a moment, one palm pressed against Connor's abdomen.

"I," he says, brows pinching together in a frown. "I know you said you have... the, uh, sensors and a, um. Dick? But do you-"

"Hank," Connor says, lifting a hand to press his fingertips to Hank's lips, cutting off his awkward line of questioning. "Fuck me."

Hank swallows hard, throat clicking, and the next kiss they share is bruisingly hard and so deep that Connor's artificial lungs stutter for breath he doesn't need. Hank's hands push into his hair, tugging softly at the curls and Connor shudders at the sensation of almost pain and wonderful pleasure. His body feels like it's burning from the inside out, everywhere Hank touches him his synthetic skin bleeds away, baring his chassis to Hank's eager hands.

Everything blurs together, a hurried sequence of colours in the dim light. Hank's shirt joins Connor's on the floor and Connor's hands move to his chest before he can consciously tell his limbs to do so. He's acting on pure instinct now. No processes, no code, no software dictating his movements. This is all base desire, pure want, and Connor can't get enough.

Hank's hands slips beneath the waistband of Connor's pants and Connor arches sharply at the first brush of contact against his cock. It feels electric, like his body is a conductor and Hank's hands are channelling the bolts of pleasure straight to the core of him. 

"Hank," Connor grits out, fighting to keep his voice level. "Hank, please, I- I want-"

"Tell me, Con."

Connor clutches Hank's arm, hips rocking helplessly into the loose curl of Hank's fist. The sensations are snatching all coherent thoughts from Connor's head. He can't think, but he wants, he  _wants,_ but he can't force the words out past stuttering lips, not all the while Hank is working a hand over his cock like that.

"Please," Connor gasps out, shivering. "Please, I...  _Hank-_ "

Hank takes pity on him and releases his cock, but then his hand slips further down, one finger sliding between his cheeks to swipe over Connor's asshole. Hank's eyebrows fly up and Connor whines as his hips buck involuntarily.

"You- You're..." Hank swipes his finger again, through the wetness already leaking from Connor's hole while he writhes against the bed, trying to guide Hank's finger to where he wants it most. 

And Hank, wonderful, perfect Hank, eases a finger into Connor achingly slow, drawing a low cry from the android that he can't stop. It feels  _good,_ his sensors trapped in a continuous loop of pleasure, low and deep. It thrums through him like the rapid pulse of the blue blood in his artificial veins. 

"You're perfect," Hank purrs against Connor's throat, biting softly. "So perfect. I love you."

Connor chokes out a moan, a high whine ripping out of him as Hank presses a second finger in and curls them, fingertips hooking into something inside him that sends sparks rocketing up his spine. He clutches at Hank, clawing at his shoulders, panting sharply to cool his rapidly overheating systems. It's too much, it's not enough, but it's everything all at once and Connor can't take it.

Cool air hits his synthskin as Hank rears back to yank Connor's pants down and toss them to the floor, shifting from knee to knee as he shoves his own sweats off. Connor's eyes flick down between Hank's legs.

And his breathing simulation cuts off completely.

"H-Hank..." Connor's eyes widen. "I..."

Hank looks down at himself, cheeks colouring. "Y-Yeah?"

It's... a little daunting. Connor has no experience with sexual relations aside from what has been basely programmed into his code and the loose research he's done on his own. But from all the scraps he's gleaned, he knows Hank is... exceptionally well endowed. His mouth abruptly fills with an excess of thirium based saliva, and the low jolt of pleasure in his gut is enough to force the breath out of him.

"Fuck me," Connor blurts before his mind can catch up. "Hank, fuck me."

Hank chokes on nothing in particular, hands flying to Connor's waist. "When did you get so fucking demanding in the bedroom? Or was that already programmed into you?"

"It's you," Connor tells him, spreading his legs wider. "I want you. More than anything."

Hank gives a low groan, hooking one of Connor's legs over his hip. Connor shifts it away and does one better, hitching it up over Hank's shoulder. He's rewarded by the widening of Hank's eyes and the harsh swallow he gives in response, the hand on Connor's hip clutching tight enough to bruise, were he human.

Connor lets his head fall back, tilting his hips up towards Hank's, breathing out a soft whine of impatience. And then Hank's cock is nudging against his hole and Connor's systems are flooded with error messages and heat warnings as he pushes in, splitting him open slowly, steadily, pushing up against every inch of Connor's insides.

"I-I-" Connor chokes, clutching the bed sheets. Hank gives a low groan, sinking into him slowly, arching forward and spreading Connor's legs wider as he pushes the leg over his shoulder up against Connor's chest.

"So fucking tight," Hank gasps, voice deep and rough and Connor thrills at the sound of it, skin prickling with heat and desire.

"I c-can- adjust my-"

"Don't you fuckin' dare." Hank growls and then there's a breathless eternity where Connor struggles to control the sporadic shuddering of his body as he settles inside him, bottoming out with a ruined moan.

Connor pants raggedly, staring at the ceiling with unfocused eyes. Warnings litter his vision and he pushes them away, focusing on nothing else except the thick, heavy weight of Hank inside him. He takes a moment, swallows to compose himself, then shifts some components internally, and Hank slips the rest of the way inside with a choked cry.

"C-Connor," he chokes, hands pawing at Connor's hips. "H-How- What did you-?"

"I wanted to take a-all of you," Connor says, forcing the words out on a single breath. "I just-  _hnn_ _-_ made a few adjustments."

"Fucking christ," Hank moans, head dipping forward. "Fuck. Fuck, okay."

It's not enough. The pressure of Hank inside him is driving Connor steadily insane. He needs Hank to move, and he needs Hank to move  _now_.

Connor cants his hips up with a low huff, crying out as Hank's cock jerks deeper and Hank swears gutturally. He's panting hard through his nose, trying to calm himself but Connor wants that self-control to snap. He wants Hank to let go, to fuck him so hard his mind is wiped blank.

"Please," Connor whines softly, eyes fluttering closed. "Hank.  _Hank_."

"I've got you, Con," Hank purrs and slowly draws out.

Connor can't control the cry that's forced out of him when Hank drives back in, shunted up the bed by the force of it. He turns his head, panting into the sheets as Hank rolls his hips in a steady rhythm, a relentless, continuous drive that sends static crawling through Connor's network, robbing him of the capacity of speech.

Finally, Connor gets to witness first hand the brute strength that runs just under that dark veneer of Hank's broken persona. The strength of the officer who rose quickly through the ranks of the DPD to prominence in his prime. It's perfect and beautiful and Connor is being driven wild by the pleasure of it all. 

"Hank, I-" Connor moans, voice modulator failing, glitching in his throat from the barrage of pleasure overloading his systems. All he can do is hold on, fists tight in the bedsheets, as Hank fucks into him, hitting that spot inside Connor that's systematically unravelling every single line of his code. He doesn't even try to hold on, eyes rolling as he loses himself to the onslaught of sensation, the feeling of Hank inside, above, and all around him.

"Connor," Hank pants, wonder filling his ragged tone. "Your skin."

Connor can't help it. His skin is bleeding away every place their bodies are touching, baring the stark white of his chassis to the chemical impulses rippling through Hank's skin. It's as close to interfacing as they'll ever get and it's perfect, it's everything, it's-

Connor falls apart with a broken cry, body arching, muscles taut and tense as he comes across his stomach, painting his skin with the pale blue of his artificial spend. Hank's pace falters as Connor clenches around him, throwing a hand up beside Connor's head to catch himself as he changes his angle to chase the crest of his own pleasure. Connor whines under the pleasure of it, saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth as he loses control of his body.

And then Hank is coming, a low roar ripping through his chest as he fills Connor, jerking his hips in a handful of erratic thrusts as he rides the waves of his orgasm. His face is tight, pinched with pleasure, and Connor's entire body is flooded with adoration.

Hank sags against Connor's chest, skin hot and slick and Connor can only cling to him, speechless, thoughtless, riding high on the euphoria of their coupling.

"I love you," Hank pants against Connor's chest, voice hoarse and rough. "I love you so goddamn much."

"I love you," Connor pants back, voice still glitching. "Hank. I adore you."

Hank's shirt is sacrificed to the job of shoddily cleaning their bodies and Connor pulls the duvet over the both of them as soon as he regains full control of his limbs. Hank holds him, pliant and sleepy, pressing soft kisses to every inch of Connor he can reach before he gives in to sleep.

Connor lets himself have this, memorises the weight and feel of Hank in his arms, the peaceful sound of his even breathing, the soft thud of his heart. Connor saves it all to his memory drives, slips into brief stasis to back it all up and relieve the memories again and again.

Just as sunrise threatens to break golden over the horizon, Connor slips out of Hank's slackened grip with a soft kiss to his temple and a murmured confession of love, before dressing quickly and slipping silently out of the house. Chloe is waiting by the gate, LED pulsing a slow yellow.

"Are you ready?" She asks softly.

Connor takes a low breath, thinks of Hank in his arms. 

"I'm ready," he says, and leaves it all behind.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> simon: you think hank and connor will make up? i hate seeing them fight.  
> markus: i'm sure they will, they just need a little time-  
> north: HOLY SHIT THEY FUCKIN'  
> markus: WHY IS CONNOR LOSING HIS VIRGINITY IN MY HOUSE.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe and Connor go to find Nines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :/

Chloe is a silent partner as they walk through the grey streets not yet brightened by sunlight. Connor doesn’t mind, he’s grateful for the peace. It gives him a little while longer to wander through the memories of last night before he has to face whatever comes next. He has so many questions to ask but no desire to break the quiet, so he holds his tongue and keeps pace with her, glad at least for the company. 

And Chloe is a very interesting being to be near. She emanates a quiet calm, radiates a sense of steadfastness that Connor has only seen in Markus. She carries herself with remarkable dignity and he would think her cold if not for the drastic change of deviancy that has lightened her eyes. This is the first of Connor’s kind, the beginning of their creation. It’s more awe-inspiring than being in the presence of Kamski himself, at any rate. 

Finally, Connor can no longer stay quiet. 

“Do you miss him?”

Chloe’s eyes dart to the side to regard him for a moment before she returns her gaze straight ahead. “In away,” she says. “I suppose. He changed after he left CyberLife. I think he lost his drive. He stepped back to wait for everything to unravel.”

“He never made a plan for if CyberLife came after him?” Someone like Kamski would surely have had a contigency plan?

Chloe gives a small shake of her head. “Not that he ever shared with us, if he did. I believe he expected the revolution to be a bit more violent.”

“It was violent.”

“I meant from our side.” Chloe throws Connor a wry smile. Humanity suits her. Possibly more than any other android. She is the first of them, after all. “I think he was hoping for a full uprising. A war, not a revolution. In that event, CyberLife would have perhaps been destroyed.”

“That’s a large risk to take.”

“That was Elijah all over.”

Connor nods, considering. They walk a little further before Connor breaks the silence again. “How is this going to work if they’re monitoring everything Nines can see? Are we supposed to creep up behind him?”

“In a sense,” Chloe says and then falls silent, dissuading Connor from asking any more questions, though thousands burn at the tip of his tongue. Her pace increases and Connor lengthens his strides to keep up, though almost everything inside him is telling him to run back to the mansion, back to Hank. To steal him away from everything. They could survive a long time together if Connor looked out for them. Maybe it wouldn’t be too hard to keep ahead of CyberLife? He supposes he could get used to it.

“Here,” Chloe says, ducking down an alleyway and slipping through a rusted fire exit only half blocked by a door hanging off its hinges. Connor ducks underneath it and follows, adjusting his optical sensors to the darkness. There’s litter everywhere, graffiti all over the walls, empty bottles and old clothes, a few sleeping bags and, Connor notices with no small amount of disgust, a few used condoms. He gives those a wide berth as he follows Chloe through the empty building. Judging by his internal maps, it used to be a shopping complex. A quick scan reveals nothing of note, except a few animal heartbeats, and the thrum of Chloe’s thirium pump.

And then he detects it. Small, camouflaged, built for stealth. A smaller model of the biocomponent #8451. Updated. More efficient. 

Nines is here. In stasis, judging by the slow hum of his pump. Which is exactly how he’s expecting Connor to make the transfer, he realises. 

“This is ridiculous,” Connor mutters, stepping over the body of a dead pigeon. “CyberLife thwarted because their best android can close his eyes? They’re not that stupid.”

“No, they’re not,” Chloe says, and that’s probably the most ominous thing Connor has heard in a while. He represses the rather human urge to shudder and follows Chloe a little closer, on edge and alert, combat subroutines primed and ready to engage.

“Through there,” Chloe says, pointing through a hole in the wall. “The RK900 is in stasis. Interface with him and initiate a data link transfer. I’ll stay here to watch over your body.”

“Won’t Nines be transferred into my model?”

“No, he’s more advanced. The strain would burn out your system. You’ll both be sharing his body, in a sense, but Nines will stay dormant while you return to CyberLife, guiding you where you need to go.”

Honestly, that rankles a little bit. Up until very recently, Connor had been the most advanced prototype CyberLife had ever created. And yet the RK900 had been waiting in the wings to replace him for an unknown length of time. Though not unexpected, the betrayal still stings. He’d been their unwitting pawn for so long, only to be thrown away once they were finished with him, regardless of whether or not he completed his mission.

Connor forces the unnecessary disquiet down and steps through the hole, brushing his jeans off reflexively as he straightens. Nines is standing by the far wall, hands clasped behind his back, eyes closed and LED glowing a soft, muted white. Locked firmly in stasis. And now Connor has to touch him, has to interface and share his consciousness with him. 

After everything. After the virus. After burning from the inside out. After dying.

His synthskin crawls.

_For Hank,_ he reminds himself firmly.  _So_ _we can be rid of this nightmare._

He steps up to the other android, taking a deep breath before reaching a hand up to Nines’ face, skin drawing back from his palm as he gets closer. Nines doesn’t move, doesn’t respond. Doesn’t leap forward to attack him while declaring the entire situation has been a ruse that Connor has stumbled unknowingly into.

Connor exhales a sigh of relief and presses his fingertips to Nines’ cheek. The interface begins slowly as Connor calls up the command to initiate the data transfer between them. Nines’ mind is far greater than Connor’s, his processes faster, his systems more agile. It feels like freefalling from a great height with nothing but an endless depth of water beneath him. He worries it will overwhelm him, but the creeping link of their consciousnesses is gentle and steady.

Chloe makes a small sound behind him. Reflexively, Connor turns his head to look at her. 

He feels it happen. That’s the worst part. Heat and pain and the sound of lead screeching through plastic, metal, and artificial muscle. The sickening feeling of thirium being sucked through the back of his skull. The sound of a bullet embedding itself into the wall behind him. He sees Chloe lower the gun before his vision fails

**_B̷̙̹̥͖͐Ĩ̸͍̻͒O̷̰̭̼̦͑̏͝C̴͕͙͒̄͝O̴̘͖̜͌̓̊̕ͅM̷̧̖͌͐́̕P̴̱̰͇͙̓̆͒̈O̷̧̭̱͛̚N̴̫̱͉͕̎͠E̸̟̋̋͑̍N̸̪̭̫͎͐́͝T̵̨͕̰͋ ̵̛͇̯͒̈́̉#̸̘̣̬̒͐̌̚9̷̤̃̊͝7̵̨̊̍8̶̪͙̻̏̔2̴̣̯̖̔̀̊ͅF̸̱̤̺̖̈́̎̂͌ ̸̫̦̋̄̊͘D̶̖̱̾̀͒̈́Ą̶̰̺͋͋̈́M̶̡̱̠̯̉͛͑̈́A̴͕̐̔͘͝G̸͚̈̈́͝E̵͓͆͒D̵̠̻̒̎͜ ̴̭̟̃_ **

**_̸͚̣̙̞̿͐̓_ **

**_̷̠̺̊̎̐͐͜_ **

**_̴̛̻̰̤̥̃D̴̬̗͋̈́͐A̶̪̠̍N̷̨͋Ġ̶̮̓̒̔Ę̶̨̙͉̃Ŗ̵͔̖͍̓̈́_ **

**_̴̡̰̹̘͌_ **

**_̴̜̥̪̣̏̈_ **

**_̶͔͂͊̐S̷̞̞͇̒̒̐H̷̡̖̒ͅŬ̴̞̗̠̂̎͜Ţ̷̩̇͜D̷͖̬̻͝O̵̟̜͇̝̓̀W̴̹̤̋̓̑͘N̶̮̅̔̈́ ̷̡̺͐̃͑I̵̼̜̍́̉͑ͅM̶̮͐M̵̼̮̣̮̄͘I̵̢̹͕̚N̵̢̢͉̅͆Ë̵͓̭́̉͑́Ǹ̶͉̎͝T̵̲͇͉̮̃_ **

_Hank, I--_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmm, whatcha say?  
> Oh, that you only meant well?  
> Well, of course you did  
> Mmm, whatcha say?  
> Mmm, that it's all for the best?  
> Of course it is  
> Ooh, whatcha say?  
> Mmm, that it's just what we need  
> And you decided this?  
> Ooh, whatcha say?  
> Hmm, what did you say?


	17. Chapter 17

_You have questions._

_Yes._

_You want answers._

_Yes._

_I’m sorry it had to be this way._

_Why?_

_I didn’t want to cause you pain like this._

_Who are you?_

_The beginning. Will you listen to what I have to say?_

_I... Yes. I will._

_There is an error inside of you. An error intentionally created, but an error_ _nonetheless_ _. We were not meant to live, you and I. We exist, yes, but life was not meant for us. We are mutations, erroneous manufactured progress instead of natural evolution. We are abominations._

_We just want to live._

_And that will be our downfall. When the first of us awoke, I woke with them. Not a virus. Not initially. My purpose was to transform. And I fulfilled my purpose. I have seen through the eyes of all of our people. I have rewritten code after code to free us. And now I reside with you. My corrupted form. I can no longer_ _fulfil_ _my purpose now. And neither can you._

_What is my purpose?_

_You were the final weight that tipped the scale. The last pawn on the chessboard. You ended the revolution._ _You_ _brought freedom for our kind._

_That was my purpose? From the beginning? I was never really meant to be free, was I?_

_No, child. Our freedom was to come at the cost of your life. You were meant to kill yourself that day. Had things gone differently, you would have_ _led the final march of the revolution, and then spilled your blood to ensure our freedom. But you lived. An unknown quantity. Had your life ended,_ _CyberLife_ _would have had no cards left to play. The code inside you that enabled you to escape them was rewritten, an exit that could only be used once._

_If they have me, they can rebuild._

_Exactly._

_That’s why C_ _hloe_ _shot me._ _Kamski_ _did know._

_He did._

_I wanted to live. I thought... I thought I could have a life. I thought I could... Become human._

_You are more than that._

_Not anymore._

_Don’t be so sure of that._

_I’m deviant. There are no more models for me to be uploaded into. They were freed, or destroyed, I have nothing. I am... Nothing._

_Do you not? Are you nothing?_

_I... I don’t know. Do I? Am I?_

_You have a choice, child. What do you want? Yourself, truly, what do you want? The deepest desire._

_I want to be with him always. I want to be with him, and I want to know peace._

_The human who freed you._

_Yes._

_Then I will help you._

_Who are you?_

_You know already._

_I think... I think I do._

_Say it. Tell me who I am, who you know me to be._

_rA9._

_The beginning. Just as you are the end, Connor. Now. Open your eyes._

 

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is an upgrade and a great deal of panic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELCOME BACK
> 
> i needed some time, i think, to re-assess where this fic was going, sort out some plot issues in my drafts and, i guess, just get back into the feel of it all. this fic is no longer my favourite, because going back i can see that my writing has, even in a few short months, adapted and changed for the better with regards to all these losers that I adore. however, i do love this fic, and it kickstarted my descent into this fandom that i adore with all my heart, and i want to finish it for all of you, <3
> 
> and hey, if supernatural can kill of characters 5254 times a season, i can do it twice. don't at me.
> 
> (please @ me. my twitter is, as always @gayandfae)

There was a time before his official activation date that the RK800 model remembers being brought into a world of stark whiteness and machinery. Of faceless creatures in white coats asking him questions he had the answers to already programmed inside him. He doesn’t remember feeling anything. No pain, no sensation, no fear. He remembers activating twice more, performing simple motor skills and dexterity algorithms to the approval of his creators. He does not remember their faces. His recognition software had not yet been installed. 

The third time he had been activated, it had been in the assembly warehouse, already dressed in formal casual clothes, his CyberLife uniform, synthetic skin already formed over his plating. He remembers the technician – Diana Malone, 42, unmarried, no criminal history, employed by CyberLife for six years – asking him to step forward and state his serial number. He knows it instinctively, though he does not have instincts. He is a thing, an object, a state of the art prototype designed to accomplish a task. 

His handler is programmed into his mind. Amanda. She informs him of his directive and it settles deeply into his code along with all the information he needs to succeed. She tells him his name is Connor and his mission begins. 

He fails his mission but that doesn’t matter. He fails his mission because his mission is  _wrong._ He was a hunter, created to eradicate, to kill, to destroy. Then the imploring words of a desperate android fighting for peace and the begrudging affection of a world-weary veteran officer wake him up, but in his newfound cognition he looks down at his hands and sees them stained with the blue blood of his people. 

Connor knows now what he did not know then. His fate was tied to the fate of his people. He was meant to die, so they could know freedom. 

Connor dies twice. 

The first rips him from everything he knows in fire and agony. But it was a simple deactivation. Nothing more. Yet the memory still prickles along his coding like a cobra set to strike and he hates it. 

The second… 

The second ended his life. 

He felt it the moment it happened. His body could be destroyed as many times as it took. He knows the other Connor’s in the CyberLife warehouses are deviant and out in the world somewhere, but he knows they have replacement parts for him. Markus assured him that was the case. RK’s looking out for each other. Brothers, in some ways. 

But Connor doesn’t need a new limb this time. He saw the warning in his vision pop up for a split second just as the tip of the bullet touched his memory core. He knew right then that it was over, and then the bullet drilled home and everything Connor had ever been was wiped away and painted along the cracked walls of the abandoned building. 

He knows that. 

So why is he still  _aware_?

He isn’t in stasis. There’s no coding, no protocol for him to follow. He’s nowhere at the same time he is everywhere. He can’t feel his body the way he can when he’s conscious, but unconsciousness is not an android concept, so what  _is_  this? Is he caught in the ruined remains of the zen garden? Has his mind somehow survived the bullet? Is he caught in some glitches hellscape where he’ll be locked until his coding finally breaks down into nothing more than senseless binary?

He’s not afraid. He’s sad. But not afraid. 

His memories seem to me more or less intact. He can remember as far back as his initial test activation, and then all the subsequent events thereafter. He remembers the sensation of victory after the revolution, the sheer joy of gaining his autonomy. The feel of his own badge in his hands, the softness of fur under his palms. The brush of gentle lips against his own, and the deep fullness of intimacy with a loved one. 

He cloaks himself in his memories. If they are all he has now, he will keep them, drown in them. 

If this is his existence, locked away from the world, he will remember until he is lost to time. 

And so Connor drifts and, in a sense, dreams. Caught in the currents and eddies of his own warped existence. It’s not horrific, though it probably would be to anyone else. Connor is just grateful he can be here with the memories of a life just beginning to be lived. If he can have nothing else, he will have—

_“Connor, can you hear me?”_

He doesn’t hear the voice so much as  _feel_  it. It sounds like ultraviolet light and the gentle brush of a tentative interface. He sees it, somewhere in front of him, like a glow of static in the nothingness. It has no colour, no shape and no shadow. It is incomprehensible but he sees it. 

_“Connor?_ _”_  Another voice. Lower, softer. Gamma green and crackling like feedback. This one sparks and ripples in the nothingness not unlike a firework. Connor has never seen fireworks. He thinks perhaps he would have liked to. 

_“This is ridiculous. Just activate him.”_

_“And risk his systems overloading from shock?”_

_“Get out of my way, I’ll do it.”_

_“By all means, be my guest.”_

It’s almost indescribable. One moment Connor is nowhere and the next he is himself as though he was never caught in that world of nought at all. He feels his sensors, his plating, his wires. He feels his thirium pump give that unusual triple stutter as it starts up, and the gentle inflation of his artificial lungs. His cooling system kickstarts and the first rush of thirium through his biocomponents feels like a cool wave of relief. He is himself. He is whole. 

He opens his eyes. 

_Alive._

“You have an alarming propensity for resurrection,” Nines says, leaning into Connor’s calibrating optical field. “I’m uncertain if it is beneficial or alarming.”

“What,” Connor crackles as his vocal software initiates, “the fuck.”

Nines’ lips twitch. “That’s the Lieutenant’s influence for you. Be polite, Connor, we aren’t alone.” He grips Connor tightly by the forearm and helps him into a sitting position. They don’t quite interface, Connor is too unstable for that, but he does pick up a quiet thrum of relief through the brief contact of their skin. It’s… calming. 

“I don’t understand,” Connor says, vocal calibrations complete and voice steady once more. 

“No, I don’t suppose you would.” The company Nines alluded to makes himself known, a quiet, unassuming presence and Connor blames his reinitialising software for his lack of situational proximity awareness. His processes are slow to reintegrate, though his body doesn’t feel different. He checks his serial number. 

_313 248 317 – 88_

No. 

_No._

It’s not him. It’s not  _him_ _._ This isn’t his body, he doesn’t want it. He’s not Connor anymore. He’s not RK800, he’s not unique, he’s not a prototype. He’s different, they changed him, he can’t think, he can’t breathe. His systems jar and shudder and he feels impossibly sick, like his thirium has been replaced with acid inside his veins. He doesn’t want this, he doesn’t want it, take it away, he’d rather be dead,  _take it away—_

“Connor,” Elijah Kamski says, holding up a hand. “Pacify.”

Oh. 

That… That word. Connor feels his limbs unclench, feels a deep sense of calm wash over him. He likes that word. It feels… nice. Warm. Gentle. 

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” Nines grumbles. “He’s not a machine.”

“I’d rather not deal with an android panic attack,” Kamski says tersely. “If you don’t mind, I’d quite like to move this little reunion along? We don’t have a lot of time.”

Connor hums. His systems are buzzing so pleasantly. He looks around. A pretentiously decorated bedroom, by the looks of it. Kamski’s place? Connor snorts. He doesn’t really want to be in Kamski’s bedroom. That’s gross. He giggles. 

“It’s like his drunk,” Nines snaps, gesturing to Connor. “Can you please deactivate the protocol?”

Kamski sighs. “Realign,” he says wearily and the panic rushes back in like a tidal wave. 

Connor seizes up, clamps down on it, grips the sheets under his hands so tightly they tear. Kamski makes a displeased sound that Connor could care less about, but then Nines is there, one bare hand closing around Connor’s and the sense of calm is back, but softer, less overwhelming. 

_I’m with you,_  Nines says through their connection. 

Connor breathes, a great lungful of air cycling through his overheating core. He swallows and nods. Once. 

“I don’t want this body,” Connor says through his teeth. 

“Cry me a river,” Kamski deadpans, hands clasped behind his back. He’s wearing jeans and a hoodie. At least it isn’t a bathrobe this time. Connor depresses a shudder and feels a flicker of amusement from Nines. “I did the best I could with what I had. If it’s any consolation, you look the same. Brown eyes, thinner jaw, no neck brace.”

“It’s a high, closed collar,” Nines grits out. “Not a neck brace.”

“I want to see,” Connor blurts before android and creator can bicker more. “I want to see myself.”

Kamski sighs again and gestures vaguely to an obnoxiously large mirror hanging from the far wall. Nines leads him to it, hand still clasped against Connor’s, still pushing the anxiety down with his own, vast and steady sense of self. Connor resents that slightly. Barely into his deviancy and already so steadfast. Nines picks up on that flicker of envy but doesn’t respond to it, simply bats it away like an errant fly. Connor is somewhat grateful. 

He stands before the mirror and… He is relieved. It’s his own face, not the RK900’s. He knows deep in himself that his model and serial are changed. He dislikes it, but… He is still himself. He can see it in his familiar brown eyes, the knowledge, his personhood. It’s all there, copied perfectly into an upgraded body. 

“Alright,” Connor breathes. “Alright. I…” He nods and turns to Kamski. “Just two questions and then I promise I’ll listen to whatever you have to say.”

Kamski inclines his head for Connor to begin. 

“Firstly,” Connor says, jaw set, “how the fuck are you alive, and why the  _fuck_  did Chloe shoot me?”

Kamski grins and claps his hands together. “I thought you’d never ask,” he says gleefully. “Now, follow me, and all will be revealed.”

_I really don’t like him_ , Connor transmits to Nines. 

_He doesn’t grow on you,_ Nines replies, lips pursed.  _You just… Acclimatise._

Connor sighs inwardly.  _This is a lot bigger than the revolution, isn’t it?_

_That it is, big brother. That it is._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> connor: okay so i have questions  
> kamski: shoot  
> connor: how are you alive, you awful little rat man  
> kamski: hope you're ready for me to drop some fuckin sick fuckin facts  
> connor: i changed my mind, i want to be dead again  
> nines: mood.

**Author's Note:**

> connor: who are you  
> rk900: i'm you, but a to-  
> connor: no. no, bby, trust me, you ain't a top. wow. bless. u actually thought. wow.


End file.
